Warning Signs
by financebabe
Summary: Ranger realizes what he wants out of life just as Stephanie is involved in an accident. Can what they have survive the day to day of life and the adjustments of formimg a life together? A Babe HEA.
1. The Batcave is Forever

_The characters below all belong to the great JE. I'm just stealing them away to make them behave the way we all wish they would._

_Jenny (JenRar) I can't thank you enough for signing on for another story as the beta. I can relax knowing you have my literary back._

**Chapter 1 – The Batcave is Forever**

"Report," I barked, trying to get this section of I-95 behind me to get closer to home.

"You know, usually when people that I haven't seen in a couple of months call me, they begin by asking how I am," Tank tried joking. Obviously, he hadn't picked up on how exhausted I was after my last mission and how much I just wanted to collapse at my house off-line for a few more days.

I decided to just remain silent, knowing Tank would give in and give me the briefing I was calling for.

"You know, the older you get, the less fun you are," Tank complained.

When had my men begun complaining? I hadn't thought about it before, but over the last year, I recalled more questions from them and less immediate responses. We might be more profitable, and the men might be experiencing fewer injuries, but after I returned, I needed to do something about the casual attitudes before they began to have a negative impact.

"Shit, man, how bad did the mission get FUBAR'd?" Tank finally cut out the jokes and picked up on my mood.

"I'm alive, but I've got a limp," I admitted, not willing to concede just how close that limp had come to me not coming home.

"Accounts are all fine, Vinnie's keeping us busy, and the other offices are maintaining status quo," Tank said, slipping back into the efficient briefing I'd called for.

I wasn't going to ask, but I blamed the exhaustion for my inability to keep my damn mouth shut. "Stephanie?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone that lasted beyond what I could stomach. Suddenly, my adrenaline was pumping, and I was traveling thirty miles an hour faster, hoping no state troopers were nearby. To hell with them, even if they were. They'd have to catch me first, and I doubted that would be possible right now.

Finally, Tank figured out what he wanted to say and broke the tension by explaining, "She's going to be fine. The last couple of weeks haven't been her finest, but we'll take care of her."

There was nothing about that sentence that brought me any comfort. "Explain."

"The cop eloped two weeks ago. I guess he finally believed her when she said they were over, and he ran off and got married. Since then, everybody from the 'Burg is taking every opportunity to rub it in her face that her last chance at happiness was moving on without her," Tank began.

I hated that they were giving her such a hard time, but I couldn't deny being glad that Joe was married. It meant at least for a while, she was free of him and I didn't have to worry about when she'd give in and let him back in her life – and her bed.

"She's had a little trouble with some skips, too," Tank continued, bringing me back to the present. "Nothing major, but enough to make me wonder where her head's been. Then this afternoon, she was in a skip's apartment when he got home. They fought, and he pulled a gun on her. She was able to grab his hand and keep him from pointing the weapon directly at her, but in the scuffle, the gun went off inches from her ear. She's with an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist now. The ringing is likely to continue for a while, but he feels as long as there isn't another major auditory trauma as the drum heels, her hearing should return to normal – or at least close enough to normal, she won't be able to tell much difference.

My hands were gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make my knuckles ache. I had been around men who had suffered permanent hearing loss as a result of close proximity to a fire arm. Of course, if the choices were her taking that bullet herself, versus a little ringing in her ear, I was glad to know there was a doctor working to minimize the discomfort while her inner ear recovered.

"How did she get away?" I wondered, figuring there'd most likely been more than one bullet in the gun she'd been wrestling for control over.

Tank laughed a little, and I knew the answer before he said it. "That damn knee of hers should be a registered as a lethal weapon. While the guy was on the floor losing his lunch, she had time to get her stun gun, knock him out, and then call us for help in getting him to the station."

"She going back to Haywood?" I suggested.

"Doubt it," he replied flippantly. "I asked her to, Bobby's still in there applying a little pressure, but she just wants to go back to her place and crash. I'll assign a man to the parking lot to keep an eye on things through the night."

I was trying to decide if I wanted to stick with my original plan of going to my house outside of town to relax for a day or two, or if I needed to go straight to her apartment in Trenton.

"I'd leave her alone tonight," Tank suggested out of the blue.

"Why is that?" I asked, not entirely sure I appreciated his presumption to advise me.

"You're probably still riding the mission, and she's going to need time to get this near miss out of her system. Plus, if she can't hear you come in and she wakes up to a man in her apartment, it's liable to scare the shit out of her," he explained, showing more wisdom than I gave him credit for.

I thought it through quickly and finally told him, "I'll be at my house for the next forty-eight. You know how to reach me."

"You want me to tell her you're back?" he followed up.

"No, I'll call her in a day or two, after she's had a chance to get over this," I replied, figuring she'd appreciate the chance to hide a little and not have to face me with the discomfort she was undoubtedly experiencing.

As an afterthought, I added, "Be sure Bobby checks in with her a couple of times each day."

Tank let out a long breath. "Man, you know we don't need that kind of instruction. Who the hell do you think looks out for her when you aren't around?"

I decided not to respond to that. "You know how to reach me," I reminded him before I hung up.

It was nearing 2300 hours when I finally arrived at my house and set the security system behind me. I smiled as I made my way to the bedroom at the thought that this was probably what Stephanie would refer to as the Batcave.

She didn't know this place existed; few people did. Even though Stephanie had never been here, she'd definitely made an impression upon it. For the first five years I'd owned this place, nothing changed. All the walls were the same shade of eggshell; the furniture was mostly leather and wood in darker shades. I'd invested in the best of everything when I first moved in, and since I was here so little, it all still looked new. About three years ago, I decided to put some pictures of Julie up, after looking at the photos Stephanie had of her nieces in her bedroom.

After that, I realized the chairs were more comfortable to sit back and think in if there were small pillows in them to go behind your neck. I'd never have seen that as a necessity if Stephanie didn't keep one in the chair in her bedroom, where I'd often sit to think at night.

My bedroom had been decorated in black to contrast against the off white walls and carpeting, but last year, I'd had enough black, and I'd replaced the comforter with one in royal blue, trimmed in black. I'd seen it in a store while I was shopping for something to give Abuela for her birthday and the color had struck a chord with me, so I'd picked it up as an impulse.

The last mission that sent me home with a wrist that needed some extra time to heel had left me locked up here for four days. I thought I'd lose my mind being cooped up, but I had gotten all my Christmas shopping finished during that time, including buying a personalized ice cream bowl with Stephanie's name on it. I'd never given it to her, but I had put it in the kitchen. It's enormous, and exactly the kind of thing she'd take as a personal challenge to fill, and then finish in one sitting.

Hell, even my home gym had equipment for her – not that she'd ever use it. I'd gotten some lower weight dumbbells and a smaller frame elliptical machine that I thought she might one day let me teach her how to use. I had nearly worked up the right setting to mention it to her, when she'd announced one day how Joe kept buying her gifts that were just things he wanted her to do or learn, and since they were presents, she felt guilted into using them. Apparently, after she melted the sauce pan on the stove, he'd gotten the message that no amount of books or gear was going to turn her into a family cook. After that episode, I'd decided to keep my gym equipment purchases to myself and just hang onto them, in case a day ever came that she might be more receptive. I guess that would go on the list of things I'd like…someday.

I stripped down, set my Berretta on the nightstand, my Glock under the pillow beside me, and my six-inch sheath knife under the mattress with the handle sticking out. Having prepped for bed, I practically collapsed, going to sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 0700. I was shocked I'd slept so long and couldn't help but grimace at how stiff I was from the extended period of inactivity. I knew I needed to work out, but I felt the need to shower first in order to let the steam loosen my muscles some before stressing them more.

I pulled the bandage back on my leg and poked around at the stitches. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but I thought the infection was finally leaving. I'd been in Iraq, engaged in some hand to hand, when the scream of a woman made me pause just long enough to let the target I'd been fighting get a knife in my groin. He'd come within an inch of my femoral artery, so I was pretty damn lucky to be alive. Of course, the jackass hadn't taken the time to clean his knife before attempting to gut me, so the infection that set in was quick and severe. The fact that it had been a rusty blade and he'd managed to yank down as he thrust in meant the wound itself was a good six inches long and went straight across the muscle, making the healing process twice as painful.

I popped another antibiotic and spent the next ten minutes just standing frozen under the hot spray of my dual showerheads. When I finally forced myself to open my eyes and use the shower gel to clean up, I couldn't help but smile at how even my bathroom had changed because of Stephanie. I'd gotten a few extra bottles of shower gel, knowing that anytime she was around, it tended to disappear at an alarming rate. Plus, I'd replaced the fixed heads in the shower with massaging heads with variable speeds. I didn't know if she'd ever bathe here, but if she did, I wanted to be sure she had everything she needed to be happy. Not that I had any intention of letting a showerhead do a man's job, but still, I hoped she would recognize the effort to make her comfortable.

Shutting off the water, I elected to forego the bandage now that I was home and let the stitches have some air. It would be another few days before they could come out, but I was tired of the tape pulling every time I took a step.

I managed to get through all my upper body work and half of my lower body, but had to admit defeat sooner than I'd liked. I was still doing more than the doctor at the hospital in Germany said was possible at this stage, so I had that to console my ego with when I stopped early.

I picked up my cell phone and checked to see if I'd missed any calls, but I was disappointed that I hadn't. I walked around the downstairs of the house, moving from room to room, not really finding much that piqued my interest as something to do to pass the time. I hated having to hide here while I healed so that no one on the streets saw me when I was weak.

After an hour of channel surfing without really watching anything, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.

I hung up when I heard the voicemail, and then swore, because I couldn't call again without it seeming like I was stalking her. Lord knew that woman had more than her fair share of stalkers, and I didn't want to add to that. I wondered if she were sleeping in or if she was still struggling with her hearing from the injury to her ear from the day before.

If she was still dealing with her ears, I figured we'd make a nice pair. She was in good physical shape, but couldn't hear; my hearing was excellent, but my body didn't want to keep up. Between the two of us, we'd make a whole.

I pulled the pillow out of the chair beside me and rested my head on it, while stretching out on the couch and shutting my eyes. A good mission usually required a day or two to come down from the constant readiness required, but when they got screwed up like this one, it could take two or three times as long.

But this was the first time I'd felt this lost. I'd had missions go worse than this one, but I'd never struggled this much to find what Stephanie called my _zone_. Of course, I usually found a way to check on her before locking myself away to come down off the mission high. Maybe I just needed to check on her – just look at her for a few minutes so I'd know she was all right – and then I would feel better.

I picked up my phone and hit the first speed dial button. "Yo," came the deep voice of my oldest friend.

"I need a location on Stephanie," I blurted out without bothering to return his greeting.

"Yeah, I'm doing well. Thanks for asking, boss," he replied sarcastically.

My chest started to ache, and I wondered what in the hell that was all about. Had the infection somehow managed to damage my heart? I stood up when I heard him begin to bang on his keyboard. Tank was a big guy with huge hands, and he wasn't known for his tender touch. I had to replace his keyboard at least twice a year because of his harsh handling.

Finally, he asked, "Why do you want to know?"

He'd never questioned me before, and I wasn't sure I appreciated it this time. "Just give me her location," I replied.

"You okay? You sound funny," Tank said, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"Yeah, but something's been under my skin all morning, and I wanted to check on her to see for myself that she was okay," I explained, unsure why I felt compelled to.

"You serious?" he asked, sounding shocked with my explanation.

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" I growled.

"No, I mean, are you serious about her?"

I suddenly felt like I was talking to the father of a young girl I wanted to ask out.

I rubbed the center of my chest again and told him, "Look, man, just give me her location and leave the girl talk for later."

"Fuck you," Tank replied in all seriousness. "Man, a year ago, you made me promise to look out for her as though she were my responsibility, and I took that as a standing order. I've spent time with her, and I've gotten to know her, and I'm telling you as your friend to leave her the hell alone unless you are for real. She's got a serious case of scrambled brain because of you, and with the right kind of attention, I think it would clear up easily, but if you lead her on and try to send her away again, then not only will it probably permanently damage that girl, but it will piss me off. You can use either one of those as a motivator to either step up or step off."

Since when did my second-in-command lecture me about how I was supposed to treat my woman? "I'm not going to lead her on, if that's what you're worried about."

There was silence until I spoke up again. "So, do you have a location?"

"Yeah, I've got one. She's on the move, though," Tank replied, intentionally holding back on me.

"Where's she headed?" I pushed, tired of feeling like I was being vetted.

"What are your intentions?" Tank challenged once more.

_What!_ "Tank, I'm not entirely sure my trigger finger has relaxed since I got back. I'm in no condition to deal with this kind of bullshit."

"Then you are in no condition to deal with Stephanie, either," he replied flatly, and then hung up.

_That son of a bitch hung up on me!_ Hell, now I understood why it pissed Stephanie off so much when I did it. Where did he get off telling me I was in no condition to deal with Stephanie? And what kind of question was that – to ask what my intentions are?

I paced a little more until the soreness in my leg began to shift to pain and forced me to sit down. I couldn't stand it anymore and picked up my phone to stare at it for a minute, as though I expected it to tell me the right move here.

I flipped it open and brought up a text screen. _Back in town with a few bumps and bruises. _Was that the message I wanted to send? I sat there with my thumb over the send button, until I got tired of thinking about it all and pressed it.

My stomach growled, alerting me to the fact I'd missed lunch. I was still sitting on the sofa, staring at my phone as though I were some pubescent boy waiting on a girl to return my call. While I was grilling a chicken breast on the stove top grill, I heard my phone alert me to a new message.

_I know the feeling. Glad you're back._

I read the short sentences several times, before deciding I hated texting. It didn't give me any of the connection that talking to her did. I couldn't hear the emotion in her voice, or read her eyes to see if what she was saying was sincere.

I turned back to the stove when I smelled the chicken moving from done to blackened, and removed it from the heat before slicing it to throw on top of my salad. I attacked the meal with my fork, as though it were the fault of the lettuce that I was so unsettled.

I'd had missions get screwed up before. This was a bad injury, but not the worst thing I've ever survived – not by a long shot. Why was I struggling? I set my meal down and realized I'd made my salad in the oversized ice cream bowl I'd ordered for Stephanie.

I stood there, staring at her name in blue letters. In the years since I first met her, she'd gone from a favor I needed to do for Connie, to entertainment that gave me something to smile about. She proved herself as a loyal friend, which was saying something in my life. But over the last twelve months, it had changed again. She'd gotten under my skin in ways that I swore no one could. Even knowing the danger it could be for her to be associated with me, I still allowed the streets to think of her as mine, knowing that might be as close as I could ever get to that claim.

I used to go over growth plans for RangeMan when I was holed up on a mission, waiting for a target, but now I thought about Stephanie. I'd remember the way she looked when I told her I was going in the wind. I'd dwell on the sounds she made when we last ate together, and if the night got really long, I let myself go back to the one night I'd had her in my arms. If that ever got to be too much, all I had to do was think about the look of agony on her face when I sent her back to Morelli, suggesting she patch things up with the cop the next morning.

Just before I'd said the words, I'd thought they were the best thing for us both. But as soon as they'd slipped through my lips, I'd known I'd made a monumental mistake. I knew that even if the time came when my life was my own once more, because of that pain, Stephanie would have a hard time ever trusting that I wasn't going to send her away once more.

At one point, I'd hoped that she might come to me on her own. There would be the occasional lingering kiss behind the bonds office, that I didn't think was entirely of my leading, or she would stop by the office just to say hello. But other than a few nights sharing a bed platonically, we've never gotten back to the way we were prior to our single night together.

I guess I figured since I had my chance and blew it, I'd lost the right to pursue Stephanie as my own. And then there was the cop, which had complicated things beyond measure. Steph had a healthy dose of Catholic guilt, so as long as she and Morelli were trying to figure out the expectations of their families and what they could accept, she would only allow herself to get so close to me.

Of course, the cop was out of the picture now. I'd appreciated him as the leading man in her life for a few years because I knew they were all wrong for each other and figured they'd never marry. I'd even entertained the fantasy at one point that by the time they finally admitted what I already knew to be true, I might be in a place to finally step up. Of course, I still had some time on my contract with Uncle Sam, which made things a little more difficult.

That damned contract – I had a love / hate relationship with it. That's how I'd bankrolled the start up of my business, but at the same time, it was like selling my soul to the devil. I've made plenty of money, risking my life to save others, so in the eyes of the government, it was a win-win situation.

I was down to the last six months, three of which I'd be on the Army version of the injured reserve because of my leg. The last three, I should only be called for training, if at all. Then it would be up to me to either re-sign, or finally claim my life back. There was a day I thought I'd rather die than give up my association with the Army, but I was beginning to rethink that position.

With Joe out of the picture, if I didn't belong to the government anymore, there would be nothing to stop me from trying to make Stephanie my own beyond just the appearance on the street. I guess there was an argument to be made that based on the way this injury was going to take me off active missions until my contract ended, I could begin now to make her mine.

Of course, Stephanie wasn't like most other women. If our one night taught me anything, it was that with her, letting her in would mean letting her all the way in. There could be no half measures, of having her in my bed, but keeping her out of the way during the day. It would be accepting that she was a headstrong woman who would be determined to know what I was doing, as well as allowing the stress that she regularly put herself into dangerous situations become a daily part of my life, as well.

Hell, who was I kidding – I worried about her every day as it was. I already cared for her, I tried to provide for her as much as her independent nature would allow. I struggled to keep her out, even though I knew I should. In essence, the only thing that would change would be getting to see more of her, and…sex.

God, having sex with Stephanie was the kind of experience most guys dream of, but doubt really exists. She was so responsive. Her body would move, and the sounds she made nearly got me off before I even got my pants down. We'd only had the one night together, so I hadn't had enough time to explore anything too over the top with her, but even what we'd shared was so damn mind blowing that it had fed my fantasies for over a year.

I didn't need to think this through anymore. I picked up my phone and hit the first speed dial. As soon as I heard the deep voice, I jumped in. "What the fuck is the matter with me?"

"Oh man, I thought you'd never ask," Tank replied with a laugh.

"Why did I keep pushing her away?" I asked him, hoping he'd have a decent explanation, because I was drawing a complete blank.

"Damned if I know, but if you're serious about her, then I'll help you however I can," he promised, giving me a sense of relief. After all these years, I always felt like the odds were stacked in my favor when Tank was watching my back.

"Any chance you can bring her here?" I wondered, feeling like a fool for waiting so long.

"You up for company?" he asked, losing the laugh.

"Only hers," I replied.

"Give me an hour, and I'll deliver," he promised. "I have a feeling that might be the very thing she needs right now."

"I'll send her a text to expect to see you," I told him, thinking if this worked out, I might actually revisit my opinion of texting.

We hung up, and as soon as I could get the other application up, I wrote, _Care to join me at the Batcave?_

I felt my heart rate increase while I waited for her response.

_Didn't you tell me it was forever? _she responded, surprising me that she remembered that off-handed comment I'd made over a year ago.

I gave her a one word _Yes_ as a response, and then set my phone down. I guess I could learn to love texting after all.


	2. Confession is Good for the Soul

_The great JE created the characters and universe below._

_Jenny (JenRar) I'm still at a loss about how to thank you for working so hard as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 2 – Confession is Good for the Soul**

I heard the alert from my security panel that a car had just entered the gate at the edge of my property. Pulling myself up, I took a deep breath as I put my weight on my leg and felt the pain that accompanied the first few steps after resting it. I made it to the closed circuit display in time to see Tank getting out of the SUV and going to the back to pull out a bag that I hoped meant Steph was going to be staying for a while.

I couldn't see her, since she was on the opposite side of the vehicle as the camera, but my patience was rewarded when she stepped around the truck. Her mouth opened, and she pointed to the house, as though in shock. I hated that I couldn't hear what Tank was saying, but she looked at him and smiled.

Tank brought them through the first door and stopped at the inner control panel to buzz his way in. I limped over in time to see Stephanie's expression shift when she got her first look at my home.

Her eyes were open wide, and she was taking it all in at a breakneck speed. Her eyes stopped at the edge of the kitchen, and her brow furrowed for a minute. Obviously, something there had confused her, so I turned to see what it was and internally swore at my stupidity. Sitting on the bar was the bowl I'd used for my salad – the one with her name on it.

Tank moved around her and set the bag down, before coming over to speak to me. "Boss," he said with a nod. "One package, safely delivered."

Smartass. I lifted my chin to mean thank you.

He looked around quickly, before saying, "I can see I'm no longer needed here," and began to make his way back to the door. He turned back and told Steph, "You need anything, you give me a call, all right?"

She nodded, and he walked out the door, leaving us alone.

"Thanks for coming," I said, feeling like I needed to welcome her in some way.

"I couldn't pass up the chance to see where you really live," she replied, restarting her looking around the room.

I pointed to the kitchen and said, "Why don't I give you the tour?"

She followed me through the kitchen and looked once more at her bowl sitting out. I tried to move her to the living room quickly, but she wasn't in a big hurry. In the den, she picked up the little pillow that was sitting against the armrest of the couch where I'd been resting.

"This is beautiful," she commented, smiling at a photo of Julie on top of the entertainment center.

I shrugged. "I'm not here much, but when I need a place to rest or get a break, it's where I come."

"You're limping," she said, as though she were shocked at the reality that I was injured.

I nodded, hating having to admit I was struggling. "I guess it's better than it could have been, but I've got a bit of a recovery ahead of me."

"What happened?" she asked, moving so that she was standing on my left side. I thought it was odd, as she had been directly in front of me, but I didn't comment.

"I took a knife at the top of my leg, and it cut through several inches of muscle and got infected to complicate things," I explained, giving her the short version.

She winced and shivered slightly, no doubt visualizing what I'd described. "Does it hurt much?" she asked, taking a small step closer.

I wanted to shrug it off, but I'd had time to think while I was waiting for Tank to bring her here, and I'd decided if I was going to try for something more with Stephanie, I needed to really try. That meant opening myself up some, even when I didn't want to.

I nodded, and then added, "It's worse if I stay up for long periods or when I first get up after resting."

She smiled and replied, "So you're screwed either way."

I smiled at her summary. "Pretty much. But if I can take it easy and not rush back into work, then I'll be close enough to normal in another week to fake it."

I looked at her and decided to ask my own question. "Why did you move over here?"

Her face turned a light shade of pink, and she pointed to her left ear. "You heard about my latest run in with a skip?"

"Yeah, I heard you did what you had to do to keep yourself from getting shot, and then you got your man in the end," I told her, proud of her for doing what needed to be done.

"In the process, I managed to screw up my ear so that it's ringing and hurts, and I can't hear very well. The doctor said it will go away as long as I don't do anything else while it's healing. It's easier to hear if I turn so that the sound isn't coming into the side that's ringing," she explained.

"We're a pair, aren't we?" I asked, amused at how both of us were hurting, and neither of us liked talking about it.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked hesitantly.

"You know you can," I told her.

"Why did you invite me to your house?" There was the question I really didn't want to answer yet.

"Can we sit to talk about it?" I asked her, feeling my nerves rise up at the thought of this conversation.

She walked to the couch and sat down at one end, leaving the other side for me.

"I guess I asked you here for a couple of reasons. First, I missed you while I was away, and I wanted to see you."

She smiled at that explanation, and I knew I'd started at the right place.

"I was stuck here, waiting for my leg to heal up some more, and I was losing my mind, staring at the walls. I wanted some company, and you were the only person I could imagine seeing me like this and understanding how much I hate being cooped up."

Her smile grew, making this whole opening myself up idea much easier than I'd imagined.

"But the main reason was that before I called you, I had a lot of time to think, and I realized that I was tired of waiting to live my life the way I want to."

She didn't seem to understand what I meant.

"I've been very careful to avoid entanglements that could be used against me over the last few years while my contract with the government was in force. I'm nearing the end of that contract now, and they can no longer require me to leave the county on a mission. Knowing that, feeling like I had control over what I could have, made me realize I didn't want to wait anymore and see what happened; I wanted to make some things happen." I watched her carefully and could tell she had another question, so I waited for it.

"What is it that you want to make happen?" she asked, voicing her concern.

"You and me, Babe. I want there to be a you and me," I told her, not able to use a word like relationship, but meaning it, just the same.

Her eyes widened, and she looked away, before turning her gaze back to me. "What about everything you've said to me in the past?"

"When I said it, it was true – at least to a certain degree – but the rules have changed, and I'm ready to change, too," I assured her.

"But what if the rules change again? Are you going to let me in now, and then push me out later?" she wondered.

Now I knew what Tank meant about the head job I'd done on Stephanie. "No, I asked you to come here because I hoped you'd remember what it meant. I want you, Steph – no conditions, no qualifiers. Just you and me."

She turned her head so that I couldn't see much of her face.

I tried to wait, but it didn't take long for her silence to put me on edge. "Babe?"

She sniffed, and I could tell she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. I put my arms around her and pulled her to me. "Why are you upset? I'm not trying to force anything on you, and if there's someone else that you want, I'll step away, if that's what you need." I was rambling. When in the hell had I started to ramble?

She sniffed again and turned a little to better face me. "No, I don't want anyone else, and I definitely don't need you to step away. I just can't believe I'm hearing what you're saying. I guess there's a piece of me that's afraid something horrible is about to happen, because good stuff like this just doesn't happen to me."

"It's happening, I promise. I know I've been a real ass to you, and while I can't promise that I'll suddenly be easier to put up with or that I'll start talking all the time, I want to be with you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove it to you," I assured her.

Her eyes were so blue, it was like midnight had dawned there, and I was being pulled in. I'd seen her with hundreds of expressions, but I'd never seen her eyes as open as they were right now. It humbled me to think that she was willing to open herself to me.

"Tank said you'd come around," she commented quietly.

"Did he?" I didn't know if I should kick his ass for putting his nose in my business or send him a bonus for saving my ass once more.

"Yeah, he said you were sometimes too stubborn for your own good, and if I could just be patient, you would eventually come to your senses," she said with a hint of a smile.

That seemed to tip the scales a little more to the ass kicking side.

"I was ready to pack up and leave when you left on your last mission, but he brought me pizza one night, and we talked – really talked. He told me that he was convinced you loved me, even if you didn't know it. And he asked me to stay and give you a chance to come home from this assignment, before I did anything rash."

And now I was back to the owing him big time.

"It's so much easier to believe that you love me in your own way, but that you also want to keep me at arm's length."

"Why is that easier to believe?" I questioned. "Have I ever told you I don't want you? I told you someday. Now that the day has come, when I can act on my own, is someday so hard to accept?"

"Yes," she emphatically responded. "I'm a total screw up. Ranger, I almost got shot yesterday. Now my ear is ringing all the time. I'm a complete mess. You can't possibly want to be with me."

"Stop," I interrupted her before she could go any further down that road. "You aren't a total screw up. You aren't a complete mess. We've already covered the fact that we're both injured. This stuff happens with what we do. We try the best we can to be safe and take precautions, but even with that, sometimes shit goes wrong."

She was trying to dry her eyes, so I hoped that meant I was getting through to her.

"I can't promise it will be easy, but we owe it to ourselves to find out exactly what it can be."

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked, as though that were a remote possibility.

"Then we can at least say we tried and not have to live with all the what ifs," I told her.

"But I need you. I need your friendship and support you've always given me," she said, which explained her original question.

"And you'll always have it," I quickly responded. "Whether we try this or not, whether it works or not, you'll always have me in your life."

"You won't try to send me away?" she asked.

I could tell that was her final hold out. The sin of my past coming back to me.

I cupped her face with my hand and stared into her eyes. Before she drew me in too far, I answered her question. "Never, Stephanie; if you'll have me, I'm never letting you go. So you need to take some time to be sure this what you what, because once we start, there's no turning back."

She placed her soft fingers over my hand and held me to her face. "I don't need any time. I've wanted this for years, but I took you at your word that it could never happen."

I moved closer, unhappy with any distance since she'd given me a reason to hope. "I never said never. I couldn't force myself to say something like that, so far outside of how I felt. You forced yourself into my heart and brought me things I didn't expect."

Her face moved back away from my grasp. "What kind of things?"

I smiled, assuming she was just pretending to be worked up over my statement. "You brought me happiness and peace." Then I pushed it a little too far. "And a stress level higher than I'd ever experienced on any mission."

She pointed a finger at me and warned, "Watch it, or I might decide to injure your other leg."

"Careful, Steph," I countered. "Even bleeding, infected, and carrying an open wound, I still managed to get myself to safety and take out plenty of people along the way. I may be weaker than I was, but I'm still plenty strong."

Stephanie laughed at my boasting and replied, "I'm sure you are, but I'm not your average bad guy. I'm sneaky."

At that, I couldn't help but laugh. "My men carry the scars to prove that's true." Shit, she was exactly what I needed to get through this. Nobody made me laugh like she did.

"Most of them aren't my fault," she quickly defended, probably out of habit more than need.

Moving a curl away from her face, I smiled at her. "No, they weren't your fault."

"So can I ask you something else?" She seemed nervous again.

"I told you that you could ask anything you wanted," I reminded her.

"Why is there a bowl with my name on it in your kitchen?" she asked, glancing behind her.

Shit. I felt like a kid getting caught trying to sneak cookies off Mama's kitchen counter. "I ordered it for you last fall."

"It's July," she observed, probably trying to point out the fact I'd had it for eight months and had yet to give it to her. "Were you waiting on some sort of sign before you told me about it?"

I smiled again. Damn, it's like my face had a mind of its own around her. "You could say that," I admitted.

She made a motion with her hand, encouraging me to keep talking.

"I've owned this house for years and treated it as nothing more than a place to crash – maybe an investment of sorts – until I got to know you."

Her brow furrowed, and I knew she was trying to figure out what the house had to do with the bowl.

"After getting to know you, I found I was looking at things differently that I once took for granted. It started with pictures—" I pointed to the ones above the television "—then there were pillows, color in the bedroom, and supplies in the bathroom.

"I was here after a mission last fall and did my Christmas shopping online. When I saw the bowl, I thought of you and ordered it. When it came, I couldn't give it to you; I wanted it to stay here, so I put in the cupboard and waited."

"What were you waiting for?" she asked, hanging on to every word I'd said.

I shrugged, unsure how to admit to it out loud. "I wanted you to use it here."

Obviously, I wasn't giving her enough to understand. "There are clothes that fit you hanging in my closet. There is a bottle of that gel you think is magic from Mr. Alexander's in the mall. I've even got some shoes that fit you under the bed."

"But…" She took the palm of her hand and pressed it against her forehead, as though she were trying to shove the right words in her brain by pushing hard enough. "Why? I've never been here."

"Because even while I was telling you that we couldn't have a relationship, I wanted – I wished." I didn't realize how true the words were until I said them out loud. "I couldn't stop from making plans for the day when it might happen."

There was silence as she absorbed what I was telling her. "And now you want this to be the day?"

I nodded and squeezed her hand. I'd only allowed myself to think about really trying for something long term with Stephanie for a few hours, but in that time, my long-fought fantasies were growing stronger, and I knew if she shut me down – if she turned away from me – it was going to hurt.

She was studying her hands, as though the future was written on them. When she suddenly looked up at me, her face was so expressive, so open. "I want this to be the day, too."

I began to lean forward to kiss her, not sneaking in my passion hiding behind the bonds office or fighting the guilt of taking what really belonged to another man. But before I could get close enough, she held up a hand and stopped me. I should have known better; with Stephanie, things were rarely that simple.

"If you try to shut down or push me away now, I can't be held responsible for my actions," she warned, no hint of joking in her voice.

"Duly noted," I assured her, hoping that was her last hold out. I waited, searching her eyes for any other thoughts that might be passing and needed to be voiced.

After waiting long enough that I thought it was safe, I began to lean in once again. This time, her hands moved up to my arms and rested against my biceps.

I paused just shy of her lips, wanting to give her a chance to stop me if she needed to. "Are you ready for this?" I asked, holding back the internal cringe at how cheesy I sounded. When had I turned into a sap?

Her hands shifted up to my shoulders as she replied, "I've _been_ ready for this. I've just been waiting for you."

Oh hell, didn't that just make me want to spout off lame lines about her wait being over. Thank God I still had enough control to keep from talking.

I closed the gap and let my lips touch hers, trying to hold back the current rushing through me, driving me to pull her to me. Her lips were so soft, and they moved with mine perfectly, giving me one more piece of evidence that we simply fit together, making me question my sanity for denying it for so long.

When my tongue ran over the seam of her mouth and she opened to me and moaned softly at the same time, I knew I was a goner. My tongue thrust into her mouth, searching out the secrets hidden there. I explored, tracing the top of her tongue, sucking it into my mouth and tasting the unique flavor of her. For the first time in a long time, all I could think about was the feel of her. The knowledge that despite not deserving her, she still wanted me was only working to increase my need for her. All of my senses were honed in on the woman in my arms, not split between what I was doing and what still needed to be done as it usually was. It made me feel alive, which eroded the last of my famous control.

I pulled Stephanie from her seat beside me so that she was sitting across my lap. There was a moment of mild pain when her weight came down on my leg, but that was quickly replaced by the pleasure of feeling her body on top of mine. My mind was warning me not to let this go too far too fast, but my dick was screaming at my mind to shut up. The internal war was quickly being drowned out by the experience of Stephanie becoming a little more aggressive and moving into my mouth with her tongue. The sounds she was making were driving me crazy, and I had a feeling she was completely unaware of them, which only made me love them all the more.

I knew I'd never be as open as she was, but I hoped in moments like these, I could learn to let myself go so that she could have the opportunity to know how affected I was by her. I wasn't really a moaner, but I did let a growl loose when her hand moved to my chest and a fingernail grazed over my nipple. Damn, that had never done anything for me in the past, but right now, I was silently wishing she'd do it again – maybe a little harder this time.

"Ranger..." She spoke my name like it was a prayer when I moved to taste her neck, trying to find that spot I knew would set her off.

Just behind her ear, I let my teeth sink in enough to sting, but not enough to break through. She sucked in a quick breath and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me closer to her. I broke my rule about never leaving a mark on a woman and drew the skin into my mouth to leave a bruise. She was mine now, and the whole world needed to know it.

Her fingertips curled so that her nails were against my scalp, and she made a sexy sound, followed by the word _yes_, drawn out in pleasure. I'd forgotten just how responsive Stephanie was after satisfying myself with only stolen moments after our night together. The voice in the back of my head began to yell that I'd been an idiot to ever let this woman out of my arms.

I silenced that by reminding myself that I was starting anew with her. I was going to be everything she deserved, and I was going to let myself have this one precious thing in my life after denying myself every other pleasure for so long.

I rarely drank, I didn't eat unhealthy foods, and dessert had seldom tempted me. I kept my reactions tempered, and swearing wasn't something I'd permitted publicly in years. Everything in my life was controlled and organized to a degree that allowed for very little joy. But in this moment, my chest nearly hurt from the swelling emotions inside me. For once in my life, I refused to fight my urges. This was the most pleasure I'd ever had – feeling Stephanie freely give herself to me – and I wanted more.

She was both my weakness and my salvation, and I was tired of fighting it. I had years of self denial to make up for and enough ideas of how to work it off swirling through my mind, I hardly knew where to start. Thank God she understood the Batcave meant forever, because that's how long it would take me to get a handle on my need for her.


	3. Good Morning

_The characters below are all from the mind of JE. I'm just having fun forcing them to do what we all wish they would do._

_Jenny (JenRar) I can't thank you enough for working as the beta on this story. Thank you for your encouragement and gentle corrections._

**Chapter 3 – Good Morning**

It had been a long time since I'd really necked with a woman. Hell, did they even call it that anymore? Usually, kissing was a quick part of foreplay, a transitional element to lead to sex. But I was in no hurry. Sure, I was hungry for as much of Stephanie as I could get, but I wasn't willing to give up this experience for an orgasm. That was definitely something I never thought I'd say.

Every touch, sound, and taste of her drove me to a frenzy of wanting more, but I knew that once we stopped, it would be hard to recreate this initial experience again, and I was reluctant to see it end.

I had no concept of time, but based on the lighting in the room, I knew it was pushing the dinner hour, meaning we had to have been at this for at least an hour. Damn, in a past life, after an hour, I'd have been searching for a cigarette and my car keys.

The death grip Stephanie had in my hair led me to believe that she felt the same way, too. She would relax enough to run her fingers against my scalp, but I would touch her somewhere, or mark her creamy skin once more, and she would come back to fist my hair again, as though it were somehow the secret weapon that kept her together.

My hand was under her shirt, savoring the silky feel of her skin, when I heard her stomach growling; I knew it was probably the right time to stop for dinner. I wasn't opposed to picking this up exactly where we left off, but I didn't want her to be fighting dueling hungers, out of the fear I might lose out to the beast.

"Babe," I said, stopping the exploration of her collarbone, which I had discovered I had a thing for. Everybody knew about the major female body parts that were erogenous zones, but I'd had no idea how responsive she would be to attention there, and seeing the effect it had on her just energized me to keep going back.

She took a shuddering breath and rested her head on my shoulder, as though she knew we needed to get a hold on ourselves, but didn't want to.

"How about some dinner?" I offered, forcing myself to look at this as an opportunity to meet her needs. They didn't have to all be sexual; if she had a desire, I had this macho drive to be the one that provided for her. And knowing that she was independent and resisted people providing for her made me all the more determined to do it.

It took her a minute to respond, but she eventually found her voice and said, "Okay, but after we're done, I don't have to go back home, do I?"

I pushed my shoulder forward to dislodge her head so she would look at me. "I said forever. By my accounting, forever doesn't end after dinner – hell, forever doesn't end, period."

"Good," she said with a nod. "Then let's eat, and then we can discuss dessert." She hopped up, allowing what she said to hit me.

"I don't have much in the way of sugar in the house. I hadn't really planned out our time, so I wasn't as prepared as I should have been," I confessed, hoping she would understand and cut me some slack, since for once, I'd acted impulsively, instead of planning out every detail.

She turned her head back to look at me and replied, "Who said anything about sugar?" Then her eyes fell to the bulge in my pants I was having no success in convincing to stand down. "I said dessert."

I stood up slowly, wanting to ease into whatever pain in my leg that might come from the change in position. I had to smile, because as I was taking the first few awkward steps, I noticed Steph turn her head to the side and shake it, like a swimmer would if they got water stuck in their ear. I guess we'd been so distracted by what was happening between us that the intrusion of reality took some readjustment.

I pulled a stool around so she could sit in the kitchen with me, but I knew better than to ask for her help. I liked this kitchen and had appointed it well, so I wasn't foolish enough to risk losing it by having her cook with me. I threw some sliced squash, onion, mushroom caps, and eggplant on the stovetop grill and let them roast, while boiling some linguini. In a sauce pan, I brought some low-fat chicken broth to a boil and reduced it down, before throwing in some garlic and basil for flavor. After it began to thicken, I squeezed a lemon into the broth and poured some cream in, as well.

When the pasta was done, I drained it and transferred it back into the pot, poured the sauce over it, and then cut up the grilled vegetables and stirred them in, as well. I served it onto two plates and topped hers with a healthy dose of parmesan cheese.

She looked at the plate skeptically.

"Humor me," I dared her, handing her a fork.

She proved her Italian heritage by masterfully spinning the pasta around the tines of the fork and lifting it to her mouth. Her eyes opened widely, as though she were shocked. "That's surprisingly good."

"You're going to give me a complex," I warned her, tasting my own dinner and feeling pleased with the end result. My mother had taught me to cook, and her lessons had stuck.

"Is there anything you aren't good at?" she wondered.

I shrugged, enjoying the feel of relaxing around her. "I don't know... There's plenty of stuff I haven't tried yet."

It took us an hour to finish an admittedly simple meal, because there seemed to be no limit of things to discuss. I'd always loved to hear her talk, so I asked questions to keep her going, but found that when she turned the tables on me, I was not only willing, but eager to answer her requests, as well.

Stephanie jumped up when we were finished and grabbed the plates, insisting that I let her do the dishes. I made my way to the sink behind her, to dry and put things away as she finished, enjoying the feel of such a domestic task.

I remembered watching my parents do the dishes after dinner, and had even asked my father once why he helped Mama with a job in the kitchen. He'd laughed at me and told me one day, I'd understand when I met the right woman and learned that spending time with her was more important than anything else. So if he had to put his hands in soapy water to do that, it was a small price to pay for spending time with his woman.

I smiled, watching Stephanie tilt her head to the left and scrub at the cheese that had melted, and then dried on her plate. I had been allowing people to call Stephanie my woman for a few years. Hell, I'd even referred to her that way in my mind, and now, I was doing the dishes with her, happy to share such a task, just because it meant I could spend more time with her. I guess my father wasn't the fool I used to think.

When she succeeded in getting the offending cheese off, she swished her hips back and forth a few times, as though performing a little victory dance. Damn, there was so much about her that I didn't know, and every new discovery was only drawing me closer to her. I'd never seen Steph as the "dance in the kitchen" kind of woman, yet as she handed me the wet plate to dry and put away, the smile on her face made me want to devote myself to learning all those secrets and idiosyncrasies that made her uniquely her.

"Your limp is getting more pronounced," she pointed out as I put away the last plate.

I'd been so focused on her, I hadn't noticed it as much until she pointed it out, and then I was abundantly aware of the throbbing.

"It's probably time for me to stretch it out," I reluctantly admitted. "Would you like to see upstairs?"

She glanced over to the area where Tank had dropped her bag when they first walked in, and then nodded, seeming a little unsure. I decided to guess at what she was worried over and told her, "There is no pressure here. If you want to go home later, I'll drive you myself, or I can call Tank to pick you up. And if you'll stay, like I hope you will, there are multiple bedrooms you can choose from."

"Including yours?" she asked with a slightly rosy face, pushing herself past her embarrassment to make her wants known. God, she was an amazing woman—so much stronger than most people realized.

"Especially mine," I assured her, hoping that was where we ended up.

Steph stepped around me to get her bag, and then followed me up the steps to the second floor. I was pushing myself to walk up without slowing down, even when the pain began to really kick in halfway up. I was a proud man and couldn't stand the idea of her thinking of me as weak. If ever there was someone I wanted to be strong for, it was Stephanie.

I stepped back at the landing on top of the stairs and allowed her to pass by me to explore the rooms at her leisure. I leaned against the wall, as though content to let her have her fun while I watched. In truth, I was taking the weight off my leg in the hope that the throbbing would die down quickly.

She returned to stand in front of me and took my hand. "Let's get you in bed before the pain gets any worse."

I started to shrug her words off, despite their truth, until she touched her fingertips to my cheek and said, "Your brow has sweat on it, and there is no way you're out of shape to the point that you can't handle a single flight of stairs, so I guessed it was from the pain."

It hurt my pride that I hadn't hidden it any better than that, but at the same time, there was a comfort in knowing she knew me so well and wasn't pushing me to bed out of some desire to control me, but rather out of a desire to take care of me. It was strange to have a woman just want to care for me, without expecting something in return.

I gave into her wish and began to walk to the master bedroom. "Go do what you need to in the bathroom so that you can stretch out and relax to go to sleep."

After I was done, I came back out to the bedroom and saw her holding a medicine bottle with a dropper in her hand, squeezing out the liquid back into the bottle while watching it intently.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out.

She grimaced and said, "I'm supposed to put two to three drops in my ear a few times each day, but I can't count the drops that I put in, because I can't see it on the side of my head. So I'm trying to judge how much needs to be in the dropper to equal two to three drops."

I limped over and held out my hand. "Or you could put your head on the pillow and let me put it in for you."

She paused, but I waited her out, until she placed the bottle in my hand and shifted so that her injured ear was up.

"You ready?" I asked, but she didn't respond. It wasn't like her to ignore a question, but then I realized she probably couldn't hear me. Her good ear was muffled by the pillow, and the ear that was damaged was all she had to pick up on my voice.

I touched her shoulder and pointed to her ear. She nodded her head, giving me permission to put her medicine in, and I smiled at the fact that we had no trouble communicating, even without words. It was a relief to know we could talk without my typically non-communicative nature getting in the way, but it was equally nice to know that words weren't always needed.

I capped the bottle after putting in her medicine, and then read the label directing her to wait several minutes before moving to allow them to work their way into her inner ear. After setting my watch to indicate when she could get up, I rubbed her back absentmindedly while we waited.

I squeezed her arm after her waiting was finished and motioned that she could get up. She looked down, as though she was embarrassed that I had to help her, so I decided to offer her a little something to ease her worries and said, "When you get back, you can help me with my leg."

I could tell from her expression that she knew I was just offering as a form of turnabout, but she still smiled and accepted the offer.

I stretched out on the bed, glad for the relief, and listened to the sounds of someone else in the house. No one else had visited me here, so it was a new experience. As I heard her turn on the shower and make herself at home, I found that it was comforting, turning it into more of a home than just a place I was staying to pass the time.

I had finally settled into the zone that had eluded me since my mission and savored the feeling of stillness that Stephanie brought to me.

When she opened the bathroom door, I swallowed a lump in my throat. As far as I was concerned, the vision in front of me was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

Stephanie was wearing one of my black t-shirts, hanging loosely on her down to her thighs. The moist heat from the shower had brought out the curls in her hair, making it even more uncontrolled than normal, and she was standing there, slightly shy, with one set of pink toes on top of the other foot.

I smiled without a hope of pulling in how I felt to hide it behind a blank face. I pulled the covers back on her side of the bed, and then grinned again when I realized that Stephanie _had_ a side in my bed. Hell, she'd always had one; I'd just been too pigheaded to admit it. Damn, how had the guys kept from telling me to pull my head from my ass?

I turned off the lamp after Steph crawled in beside me and realized that having her that far away wasn't going to work. I needed to touch her. "Come here," I rumbled, before rolling her over and pulling her to my side to draw her against me. We fit like two pieces of a puzzle, and that was how we both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the most wonderful feeling. We'd rolled some during the night, but spooned to my front was Steph's back side. I didn't have to open my eyes to picture how we must look, my dark skin to her light, her smaller frame to my more developed one, and her curls to my straight hair, but pressed together with no space in between. Contradictions at every turn, but that only served to fit us more tightly together.

Of course, thinking about fitting tightly with Stephanie brought up other images, and it was while I was lost in that fantasy that Steph woke up, laughing.

"What is so funny?" I opened my eyes to ask.

She moved her hips and pressed her backside into my crotch. "I see you got up before me," she blurted out, still finding her pun amusing.

I decided to meet her head on and tease a little in return. I pressed my erection to her ass, moved a hand to her hip to hold her to me, and then sucked on the already bruised mark on her neck. "That's right. I was up first, and I've had time to come up with all kinds of ways to start out morning off right."

In the past, anytime I made an allusion to us having sex, she changed the subject quickly, but this time, she seemed to be right there with me. Her hand flew back and grabbed my neck, pulling to keep my mouth on her.

I brushed more of her hair out of my way, and then pulled the neck of the t-shirt so that I could get better access to her, lavishing her smooth skin with attention. She easily turned, moving at a speed that allowed me to continue kissing her, despite her repositioning until she was facing me.

I wasted no time in claiming her mouth with my own. I knew Steph was a great kisser – I'd stolen enough from her at the bonds office on top of what we shared on the sofa last night – but what she was doing to me now was taking it to a whole new level. It's not that her technique was original or she was doing things I'd never heard of before; it was more that everything she felt was being passed along through that connection.

She wanted me; I'd always known that. Everybody that spent any kind of time around us knew that we had chemistry. But our talk last night and how we'd woken up this morning seemed to have freed something in her, and if her current reaction was any indication, I was going to see what else she might have been holding back from me.

While I was lost in thoughts of how damned hot it was to have her receiving my advances head on, she easily pushed me over and climbed on top of me, straddling my waist and pressing her body against mine. She didn't seem to want any kind of distance between us, which suited me just fine. Hell, a little more friction between us is all it would take to set me off like some damn teenage boy.

No matter what was about to happen, I knew I only had so much control, meaning my lasting time might not be what I'd typically be capable of. As her hips began to grind against mine, I decided that while I might not be able to give her much in the way of hold out time, I had stamina on my side and nothing on my calendar, so there was ample opportunity to redeem myself.

"So hard…" she moaned, making me smile.

"All because of you," I teased in return.

She shook her head no, and her words confirmed that I hadn't understood what she meant. "Well, that, too, but it's so hard to hold back."

And wasn't that just exactly where I wanted her, on the brink of losing control so that I could push her over the edge and be there to catch her? "Stop holding back," I commanded, moving my hand from where it had been rubbing her smooth back to her chest, so I could greet those perfect nipples.

She let me push her up so I could get my mouth on her chest, and then she gave me the most intense moan, like I was hitting the perfect spot in exactly the right way. My dick started pulsing, as though reminding me he had a purpose here and it wasn't to stand there, watching the action without participating.

"I can't…" she started, unable to finish the sentence.

The possible endings my mind came up with caused me to release her from my mouth so that I wasn't forcing her into something she wasn't ready for. It might hurt like a bitch, but there was no way I would force myself on Stephanie. Not now, when she trusted me enough to let me in her life. There was no way I was going to screw this up over sex.

Her eyes shot open and looked at me questioningly. "Why are you stopping?" she demanded.

"You said you couldn't do this," I reminded her.

Steph moved her hips again, lowering her body so that the wetness between her legs was now being directly applied to me. I gritted my teeth, needing to tell her what she was saying and what she was doing didn't match up, and I was struggling to just hang on here.

"I said I can't wait, not that I can't do this," she corrected me emphatically, not leaving any doubt about what she wanted.

And there it was; the desperation in her eyes that mirrored my own gave me the permission I needed to move my hips with hers to put the tip of my erection closer to where I wanted it with every shift.

As if we had both reached our breaking point at the exactly the same moment, Stephanie lifted her hips as my hand moved between us to reposition my head at her willing entrance. We both froze, knowing any movement now was going to change everything between us. Sure, we'd had a real discussion last night about how we felt, and for us, it was huge, although I supposed there were still some elements that had been left undefined.

Our eyes locked, and we stayed that way for a few seconds, making our next move even more monumental. This wasn't something we were falling into, to be regretted later as a momentary loss of control. This was an intentional act, by both of us, where we both understood the meaning.

She smiled, softly, as though that thought brought her a measure of joy that she could no longer hold back. Seeing her reaction and thinking that being a part of my life was bringing her this joyful emotion undid me, and my hips began to move again, breaking the dam between us.

As I slid into her tight confines, I knew I had been here before, and I was about as far from a virgin as a man could be, but I was still struck with how different it felt. My torso lifted from the bed so I could be even closer to her. Shit, I had no idea what I was doing. I thought we'd have sex, and it would be amazing, like it had been the last time we'd done this – that it would serve to bring us closer together. Once again, I was proving what a damn fool I was.

I was home inside of her with my arms wrapped around her body to prevent her from moving. My chest was aching again, this time from the feeling that it was so full, there wasn't room for the influx of emotions hitting me. I knew this was it. There was no turning back from this, and there was no moving on to someone new if it didn't work out. Stephanie Plum was it for me, and my heart and mind both knew that what I was feeling in this moment was my new addiction. It was the first time my sexual hunger and my soul were joined, and nothing else would ever suffice for me again.

I pushed the curls away from Stephanie's face so that I could see her and was alarmed to see silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Did I hurt you?" I panicked.

She shook her head no and paused, as though she couldn't figure out what to say to explain her emotional reaction. "I didn't know it would be like this." She wrinkled her forehead, as though she hadn't said the right thing, and tried once more. "It's so much more."

"I know," I tried to assure her, relieved that she was as surprised by the overwhelming feeling of us being together as I was.

"What am I going to do if you push me away?" she confessed, attempting to lower her face to my shoulder so I couldn't see her.

Hell, no... I wasn't going to let her hide from that. Mentally cursing the pain in my leg, I rolled us over, still joined, surprising her enough to stay focused on me. "I'm not pushing you anywhere. And I'm not letting you _go_ anywhere," I promised.

I pulled my hips back as slowly as I could manage, while saying, "I'm playing for keeps here – this is forever."

"Forever," she repeated, as though testing out the word and liking the way it felt on her lips.

Then I thrust into her again, grinding my jaw to hold back even with the throbbing of my dick and the clamping of her muscles around me. "Forever," I assured her once my mouth would work again.

She nodded that she understood, and then her mouth dropped open and her head tilted back, as though the pleasure of this moment was too much to handle. It mirrored how I felt completely, so I took that as permission to begin making love to my woman in earnest. She opened her legs wider and wrapped them around me, changing the angle and drawing me farther in.

Then she seemed to get an idea and pushed against me to roll over, allowing her to be on top once more. She shifted the angle again, drawing me in completely. I knew without a doubt that I was touching places in her that had never been explored before, and it hooked something deeply possessive inside of me.

She pushed her upper body up with her arms and met me thrust for thrust, not holding back vocally in letting me know how it felt. It was like having my ego stroked with every movement, only encouraging me to give it to her harder and faster. I was trying to make myself think of anything other than how it felt to be moving inside Stephanie, but she would moan or claw at me with her fingernails, and the mission stats I was trying to bring to mind would fly back out the window, forcing me to focus solely on her.

For the first time in my life, everything I was revolved around this present place and moment in time. It all centered around this person, who was freely loving me and willingly taking me into her heart and her body, despite my past and the potential risk in the future.

I felt the change in her where she went from wanting more, to frantic for it. I moved my hand from her perfectly rounded ass to squeeze between us.

"Ranger!" she screamed, as my fingers lightly rubbed over her clit.

"Oh, God," she added, as her muscles clamped down on me, milking my eruption from me.

I could feel the heat of my cum moving into her and felt that it wasn't just a biological reaction to pleasure, but it was my very heart moving into her body, as well.

She collapsed on top of me, completely boneless and breathing heavy, occasionally squeezing me again or rocking against me once more as she rode out the orgasm passing through her.

I was a planner – a master strategist. I did very few things without having multiple plans in place to make my objective reality. But it appeared that what should have been my most important plan, how I could make this woman my own, wasn't something I could have prepared for. This was so much more than I even thought possible that I never would have imagined this.

I woke up, content and happy to have my woman in my arms. As we'd moved to a place that I believed we were going to have sex, I'd been thrilled. Since I was a physical person, a solid sexual connection was going to be important for me while in a relationship. But what I got only served to nail that point home. Stephanie was an exception to every rule I'd ever held for myself, and this experience just proved that to be even more true.

As I thought about a physical relationship with Steph, I could feel my body beginning to respond. I might have just had my world rocked by this woman, but my body was clearly letting me know it was more than ready for another round.

Stephanie moaned and shook her head, putting me on edge that my self congratulations about what we'd just experienced might have been premature.

"What is it?" I asked, proud of how level my voice was.

She didn't look up to respond. "After that, you'd think I would be satisfied for a long time."

I guessed where she was heading with her comment and smiled at how lucky I was to have a woman whose needs were so well aligned with my own. I moved against her, trying to hint that I was ready for anything she wanted from me. She shocked me by sitting up abruptly, her wild hair flying through the air, as her body was on display for me.

"I've had a long dry spell to make up for," she rationalized, moving her hips against me and pressing her clit against my body, causing her to shiver in response.

I put my hands on her hips to encourage her to keep moving and promised her, "Trust me, Babe. I have no intention of letting you go dry ever again."


	4. Boom!

_I deserve no credit for taking the creative genius of JE and using it for my own fun._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story. There are few people that could take my collection of ramblings and turn it into a chapter as you do. _

**Chapter 4 - Boom!**

After skipping breakfast and lunch because neither of us could control ourselves long enough to make it downstairs for food, I knew it was time to man up and fix dinner for Stephanie. I was getting really hungry, so she had to be starving.

She was asleep, her wild hair splayed out on the pillow around her face, wearing nothing but a glow that I wasn't above saying I was proud to have put on her face. I slipped out as smoothly as possible so that I wouldn't disturb her, and then pulled the sheet up to insure that body was only seen by my eyes. I shook my head at that thought. It's not like anyone could get in this place; I had it secured tighter than Fort Knox - literally.

Since I'd admitted how I felt about her, I had this unexplainable need to protect and provide for her. I knew she was independent, so I was going to have to figure out how to rein it in some, but if there was something she needed, I wanted to be the one to provide it to her. And that was why I had the handrail in a death grip in order to make my way downstairs to cook dinner. I knew she'd be starving when she woke up again, and I was focused on having something nutritious for her to eat when she was ready.

I grilled a couple of chicken breasts, and then decided she probably wouldn't appreciate that as a meal, so I looked around in my cupboard to see if there was anything I could use to make an acceptable sauce to slather on it to hide how healthy it was. I remembered my sister mixing honey and mustard together for my nephews to dip their chicken nuggets in, so I pulled that together and dipped a finger in, pleased that the sweetness of the honey came through.

I was just finishing up a fruit smoothie when Stephanie came downstairs in my t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back and twisted like she'd tied it in a knot behind her head just to get it out of the way without having to deal with it. I poured some of the creamy fruit drink into a glass and pushed it across the bar to where she was standing.

Normally, she would have turned up her nose at one of my fruit drinks, but her slightly shaking hand reached out to accept it and gulp it down. It was half gone before she pulled it from her mouth and licked her lips. I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering if she was going to insult my attempt to give her healthy food, but she shrugged and said, "Not bad, but some whip cream on top would really set this off."

I topped her glass off with a little more and turned back to the counter, where I was tossing some spinach with cheese, raisins, and almonds to make a salad. Stephanie moved over to where I was and brought her stool along with her to sit on while I worked.

I kept an eye on the progress of her smoothie, relieved when she finished it. I knew the natural sugar in the fruit would settle her obviously low blood sugar and give her a temporary boost of energy to insure she ate the rest of her meal.

We sat out on the porch for dinner and talked as we ate. I told her all about my mother teaching me to cook, and she told me about her mother attempting to force her to do it. As was always the case when we opened up to each other, I was amazed at how much closer I felt to her. I'd gone into this relationship knowing that if we got together, it would be forever, but I had no idea just how deep it would go. I would do anything for this woman, just for the chance to put that beautiful smile on her face.

After cleaning up the kitchen, we talked about what was going to happen during the next few days. She felt like she needed to get back to work, despite my assuring her it wasn't necessary. I also knew it was one of those things that I couldn't force. She was opening herself to me, and if I began to challenge her in the work she did, then she would take it as a rejection of who she was. So despite it going against everything I wanted, I let it go.

"Bobby made me a follow up appointment with the ear doctor tomorrow afternoon, so I have to be back in time for that, at the very least," she conceded, perhaps putting off her return to chasing skips until after that meeting.

"When will you come back to work?" she asked, knowing I didn't want to go back until I had the limp under control.

I shrugged. "I can't tell yet, but I'm thinking at least a couple more days. I should be able to cover it well enough after that to keep the streets from picking up on anything."

"So, if I go back tomorrow, when will I see you again?" she asked, getting to the heart of what she wanted to know.

"Well, you could always come back here to stay at night," I tempted her, watching as she considered the offer.

"I don't even know where here is," she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed by the confession.

"You could take my car from the garage," I told her. "It has GPS in it, and you could follow that back here when you're ready."

She grinned as we both remembered the first time she'd used my GPS system to find a safe place to sleep on seven when I was out of town. She'd asked me for weeks if she'd found the Batcave, and I'd refused to answer, except to say that the Batcave was forever.

"I could do that," she said in response, grinning.

In that moment, I relaxed a little, realizing that it was really all about giving Stephanie the choice of what to do that motivated her. If I'd told her that's what she was going to do, she would have fought it, but since I'd offered it as her decision, she seemed to be more willing to entertain my suggestions. I knew there would be times when I would revert to my standard MO, but hopefully, I will have proven my intent to her well enough that she won't fight it when the time comes.

We spent the rest of the night watching television with Steph lying between my legs, leaning against my chest. I wondered what the guys would think if they could see us now. I couldn't decide if they would laugh at how comfortable and cozy we looked, or if they just be relieved that we'd finally stopped denying what was so obvious to them.

The next morning, I made us breakfast and did everything I could to keep Stephanie from getting dressed. I joined her shower, I helped picked out her clothes – including her lingerie – and I made her lunch wearing only my sweatpants, hung low on my hips. I thought I had her then, because she spent more time looking at my waist than at her plate.

But at 1430 hours, she announced she had to leave in order to get to the medical office in time. I knew she would be back in a few hours, but I hated the idea of being away from her. I was torn between volunteering to go with her and asking if she'd postpone the visit for another day or two, but in the end, I gave myself a quick lecture, consisting of _damn it man, get a grip_, and kissed her goodbye, handing her the keys to my newest Porsche.

She looked nervous taking the keys from my hand, but when I assured her it was just a car, she took them, promising to be careful. I decided while she was gone that I'd get online and research cars for her. I knew she didn't like taking my sports cars, but there had to be something somewhere between the clunkers she drove and the top of the line I preferred. I had to do something to get her in reliable transportation so that I wasn't worried every time she left.

I picked up my cell phone and decided to get busy, in the hope of making the time pass a little faster. When Tank answered, I jumped in with the most important order of business. "Stephanie is in route to her doctor's appointment in my car. Have someone shadow her."

"I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking, man," Tank replied in a syrupy voice, apparently hinting that my direct approach no longer worked for him.

"Is there something in the water that's making you act this way?" I blurted out in response. I needed to get this leg solid again so I could get back to Haywood and snap that office back into shape.

"No, but Ella might be slipping something into the chocolate chip muffins she's been making since you've been gone," he replied with a laugh.

I had no way to know if he was joking or not, since I knew she would deny it regardless and would stop as soon as I was back. "While you're thinking of new ways to bust my chops, can you get on assigning someone to Stephanie?"

I could hear the phone moving and other sounds in the background, before he came back online and reported, "Bobby is meeting her there for the appointment, and Vince will shadow her travel to and from. Do you want to tell me where she'll be returning so I'll know if I need to assign someone to watch her tonight?"

"No need to pull someone for tonight," I replied, not wanting to go into details right now.

"Why's that, boss man?" Tank asked, entirely too eager for details about my personal life.

I may have opened up with Stephanie, but that didn't mean I was turning over a new leaf with all my interactions.

"I'm doubting this is from Ella. I'm thinking somebody got the better of you in the ring, and you took a few too many blows to the head," I told him, hoping he would take the hint.

"I'm just messing with you, Ranger. How are things going?" He was still pushing, but he was doing it a little softer.

I paused, perhaps too long, because Tank started to laugh. I knew I needed to say something, but I had no idea how to put it into words. Finally, I just went with, "Thanks for picking her up yesterday. Having her here was exactly what we both needed."

"Glad to hear it," Tank replied sincerely. "Does this mean we're going to be seeing a little more of her around the office?"

"I hope so," I slipped up and told him. "I'm not going to push her into giving up Vinnie, but I'd love to have her working with RangeMan to do the skips, so I could assign her a partner as backup."

"Good luck with that," he laughed at me. "But if there's anything I can do to help you make the argument, let me know. I'd love to see her taken care of, too."

I knew a lot of my men felt that way. They had been around her enough to appreciate the way she treated them, and I had yet to find anybody who was immune to her open nature and accepting ways. If I announced she needed seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day coverage, I wouldn't have any shortage of volunteers.

I got a real briefing from Tank, and we went over all the activity I'd missed while I was on my mission. I decided I could begin catching up from the house, so I asked him to begin pulling together the reports that I needed to review, and I could start those now so when I got back to the office, I could hit the ground running. Hopefully, when the catch up paperwork ran out, my leg would be able to support that plan.

I was running through possible car suggestions for Stephanie, when I heard the garage door open. I got up, glad that it wasn't as painful today as it had been yesterday, and made it over to the security panel to let her in. I glanced at my watch and realized it was later than I'd thought, knowing she must have done something other than just her doctor's appointment to have taken up that much time. I mentally patted myself on the back for having assigned someone to shadow her, since she'd no doubt gone to multiple locations.

She came in and didn't hesitate to walk straight up to me, wrap her arms around my shoulders, and raise up on her toes to kiss me. Not being one to ignore such a blatant invitation, I met her halfway and showed her just how much I'd missed her, too.

When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard and smiling. I didn't know how long it would take me to get used to being this happy. Hopefully, during the rest of my down time, I could relearn how to call on my blank face, or the guys in the office were going to give me hell over smiling so damn much.

"What did the doctor say?" I asked, keeping her against me.

She shook her head, but I waited, knowing she would eventually tell me.

"There wasn't much change, which explains why it still hurts. The ringing has gotten a little better, but he was hoping it would be completely gone by now, so he's thinking I may have some permanent damage. Until the ear drum heals, he won't commit to that one way or the other. In the meantime, I'm supposed to stay away from all loud sounds and keep using the drops he gave me."

I knew my arms were tightening around her, so I tried to focus on relaxing my grip to keep from scaring her. "Well, even if it doesn't improve, you can still get along well enough. When the ringing goes away, it will probably seem better, just because you don't have sounds competing for your attention," I said, trying to encourage her.

She looked up at me, her deep blue eyes searching for something. Finally, she gave up reading the answer and asked, "Doesn't it bother you that we just started talking about trying for something real together, and I'm already damaged?"

I couldn't allow her to keep going with that line of thought. "Not a bit. Why? Does it bother you that we committed to something real together and I'm damaged?" I glanced at my leg as evidence of what I was talking about.

"Of course not," she quickly corrected me, causing me to raise an eyebrow at her, trying to make the point that I felt the same way. "All right," she conceded, before complaining a little, "But I don't like the idea that I can't hear as well as I used to. I know it's not a big deal in the big scheme of things, but I still feel like it makes me more vulnerable. It's never been hard for people to sneak up on me, and this injury just makes it that much easier."

That was true. "I'm not going to lie; it does take away a small part of your defenses, but you have instincts that you can trust. If you learn to rely on those, even if you can't hear anything to support what your gut is telling you, you'll be fine."

She smiled up at me, but I could tell she was forcing it. It never reached the stormy color of her eyes. But true to her nature, she was refusing to dwell on this any more than was necessary. Then her whole face fell, leaving me to wonder what thought just passed her mind.

"I stopped by my parents' house to check in, and I dropped by the bonds office after the appointment with the doctor, but I forgot to go by my apartment and check on Rex," she explained.

"Do you want me to have someone go by and take care of him?" I asked, turning to get to my cell phone, where I'd left it on the counter earlier.

"No," she replied. I assumed she didn't want me to have one of the guys let themselves into her apartment. Knowing they could do it and giving them permission to just help themselves were two entirely different things, I supposed she was thinking.

She picked her purse up from where she'd dumped it on the floor at our feet and said, "I won't be able to relax if I don't go check on him now."

"Why don't you bring him back with you and put him in the kitchen?" I offered, never understanding the relationship between those two, but being smart enough to know that accommodating the rat would make everyone's lives easier.

She looked up at me and smiled, obviously appreciating my offer to house her pet, as well. "Do you want me to pick up something for dinner while I'm out?"

"No. Go do what you need to, and I'll fix something here to eat when you get back," I countered, wanting to feel useful to her in some small way.

"No salad," she argued with enough of a grin, I knew she was playing.

"No salad," I repeated, willing to eat just about anything to make her happy.

I bit my tongue to keep from telling her to be careful and just kissed her deeply once more, before opening the door to let her leave. As soon as I saw the car turn at the end of the driveway, I made my way to the kitchen, trying to figure out what I could make that would allow me to keep my promise.

I was busy stuffing chicken, hoping that she wouldn't consider the abundance of spinach inside the breast to be a salad, when my cell phone rang. My hands were covered in raw meat, so I missed the call by the time I got them washed and picked it up. Before I could pull up the number of the caller, it began to ring again.

For some reason, the insistence of someone speaking to me put me on edge, and I got that feeling in my bottom of my stomach just like I did on missions, right before bullets started whizzing past me.

"Yo," I answered quickly, hoping whoever this was would cut to the chase and let me know what was wrong.

"I'll be there in ten," Tank's voice said without any trace of the humor he'd had over the last couple of days.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, wanting him to start talking.

"We'll talk about it when I get there," he replied, as though I were some small child that would bow to his will. He might be the larger man, but I was still the big man in charge.

"Damn it, Tank, start talking," I commanded, while moving to get my boots and put them on.

"I don't have all the details, but Hector was doing his routine tracker check and was watching your Porsche, when the tracker went offline. We knew Stephanie was using it and it had been parked in her parking lot, so he called Vince and Cal, who were just a couple of blocks away, to check out what happened. They just called in and said there was a gas leak in a second floor apartment and it blew with enough force to take out the back of the apartment building and a good deal of that debris blew out onto your car." He gave me the details as I slipped my utility belt on, checking the weapons that I already knew were good to go.

"Stephanie?" I asked, not caring that my voice cracked in the middle syllable of her name.

"They're looking into it. The source of the explosion wasn't her apartment, but there's complete pandemonium there right now," he told me as he pulled into the drive.

I shut everything up and met him at the back of the garage so he didn't waste any time shutting the car off. "Let's roll," I told him, jumping in, not giving a damn about the pulling in my leg.

Tank was one of the best drivers I knew, so I held on, trusting that he'd use all his skills to get us there as fast as physically possible.

We were still a mile away, when his cell phone went off, and I had to listen to a maddeningly one-sided conversation, with very little input from the man to my left.

After he hung up, he relayed what he'd heard. "Cal and Vince got her out of the apartment. It was her neighbor's unit that took the direct hit, and the force of the explosion or the weight of the wall that collapsed partially on her knocked her out. She was still unconscious, but they said her pulse was strong and her breathing was steady. Bobby was pulling up and was going to ride with her to St. Francis."

"Take me to the hospital," I ordered, even though he probably knew that's where I wanted to be. I wasn't the least bit interested in the wreckage of her apartment when she wasn't there.

Tank pulled up to the drop off circle at the emergency room and stopped the car to let me off. "I'll go to the apartment, check on her hamster and see what can be salvaged. I'll have someone drop off an SUV for you, too."

I nodded, glad in the midst of this sudden hell that I had Tank behind me for support.

"Go take care of our girl," he added, putting the car in gear to head out once more.

I made my way in and saw Lester standing just inside. He lifted his chin in greeting and met me halfway. "Bobby called the ear, nose, and throat guy to meet them here. He said she'd definitely taken a hard hit to the head, so he was confident there was – at a minimum – a concussion, but he was more worried about the blood from her ears. The boom from the explosion, on top of what she was already dealing with, might have shredded her inner ear. He said he'd come out as soon as he knew something definitive."

I ran my hand over my face to try and control my expression. I'd known loving Stephanie was opening myself up to a new form of suffering, but I hadn't realized how much more intense the worry would be now that we'd admitted to how we felt. I was always on edge when she had to come to the ER, but this was more than I could cover up.

"She's a fighter, man. She'll be okay," Lester offered, not sounding completely convinced himself.

Slowly, the waiting room began to fill in with guys from the office. I made myself useful, filling out her paperwork, but that only took ten minutes, and then I was back to waiting with everyone else.

My cell phone rang, and I jerked it off my belt, hoping for some word from Tank to distract me from the silence of the waiting room. I answered so quickly, I hadn't checked first to see that it was Morelli on the line, instead of my second in command.

"Manoso," he began, causing me to look around, as though I expected to see him step in. "I heard what happened and wondered if you had any news. I could go to her parents' house and fill them in so they aren't left wondering what's going on."

I ran my hand through my hair, knowing it was an offer I should accept, but hating that he was the one to tell her parents. It should be my job, but they didn't really know me. I gave him the limited information I had so far and thanked him for taking it to them.

He hesitated, before saying, "I'm married, I've moved on, but she's been a friend to me since we were kids. There's not much I wouldn't do to help her."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it, too," I told him.

"I hear she's been with you for the last couple of days," he added, pausing to give me a chance to agree.

I elected to stay silent, instead of disclosing anything about my private life to the cop that I'd envied for years.

Realizing I wasn't responding, he pressed on. "She's not an easy woman to love, but she's totally worth it, if you can be tough enough to survive nights like this."

I was torn between relief at his admission that I was the one that loved her now and pissed as hell that he was bringing up their former relationship at a moment like this. In the end, I decided that getting into a pissing match with the cop probably wasn't a good idea, so I simply said, "Toughness has never been an issue for me."

He hung up, and I went back to my brooding, silently watching the doors to the exam rooms, willing them to open with good news.

As if he'd heard my command, Bobby appeared, looking like he'd been through a battle. I knew he'd been in the office when the explosion happened, so the dirt and blood on him was all Stephanie's. I stood up and wondered if it was physically possible for your stomach to move within your abdomen to push up into your throat.

Bobby ran his hand over the back of his neck, rubbing away the tension there. "She's still out. The doctor believes she'll come around anytime, so he isn't worried about that. She does have a concussion, and there are bruises over fifty percent of her body from the force of the explosion, but the initial x-ray doesn't show anything broken. She's going to feel like she was hit by a truck, though."

He moved his hand from the back of his neck to rub over his eyes, so I knew he was holding back something big.

"What's the rest?" I asked, needing to know what was left.

"Her ears…" He looked down and seemed to be searching the tiles for the right words. "You know about her injury to her left ear, correct?"

I nodded to keep him talking.

"The doctor was already worried about permanent damage from that injury. He was clear in her check up this afternoon that any additional acoustic trauma would insure her inner ear's inability to heal. It's too soon to tell for sure, but he was confident that her left ear has been permanently compromised, and he doubted she will have any hearing restored. That wouldn't be so bad, but her right ear looks almost as bad. The drum is torn – shredded, really. The bones behind the drum were crushed, and there was extensive swelling deep into the inner ear."

"Is there nothing he can do for her right ear?" I asked, desperate for any hope that I could offer her.

"There is the possibility he could perform surgery to repair some of the damage, but he can't say for sure if she would be a candidate for that until the swelling goes down and things stabilize. Maybe six to eight weeks from now, he can reassess to see if surgery would be an option, but at this point he's leaning toward saying no. She's been around enough explosions and other loud noises that her hearing had already been reduced; she just didn't realize it, because the loss was gradual. The only thing we're really waiting for at this time is to see if she has any hearing left at all."

"You're saying she's going to wake up and not be able to hear a thing?" I asked, trying to get to the bottom of what he was trying to tell me.

"No. She'll wake up in pain, groggy, with intense ringing in both ears. Until the ringing phases out and some of the extreme damage clears up, it's classified as temporary hearing loss," he corrected me, choosing his words very carefully.

"But in a few weeks, once we're past the point of temporary hearing loss, then what are we left with?" I pushed, needing him to lay it out there.

"There's no way to know for sure, but I'd say there is an eighty percent chance Bomber will never hear again, or if she does, it will be so muffled and at such a low level that she could be classified as deaf," Bobby finally explained, his shoulders slumping, obviously hating being forced to say it out loud.

Strangely, despite the crowd of large men all listening, when Bobby finished talking, you could have heard a pin drop. My woman was lying in her hospital bed, completely unaware of how drastically her life had changed.

I felt the guys at the back of the circle disappear and knew they weren't abandoning her; they just needed some time to digest what they'd been told.

Tank stepped up and began organizing the ones that remained. "Les, you and Ram take the first shift outside her door. I'll have a schedule up in half an hour. As long as she's here, there will be twenty-four-hour coverage.

"When will she get out?" he asked Bobby.

He shrugged. "Probably sometime tomorrow. They want her to be here overnight so the nurses can wake her up and document her discomfort from the pain of her injuries. My guess is unless something goes wrong during the night, they'll release her to my care tomorrow afternoon.

"Hector, you and I are going to look at modifying some gear to be helpful to her needs, and I'm assuming you'll be in the room with her," he said to me.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to talk.

Bobby put a hand on my shoulder and asked, "You sure you don't want to go back and rest tonight? She'll probably be out of it for most of the night, and I can hang out with her so she isn't alone."

"No," I said quickly, interrupting his offer. I knew he was aware of my leg and was probably making a highly beneficial suggestion, but I had no intention of being away from her now.

"All right," he conceded, seeing the resolve in my eyes, "Room 305."

As I made my way slowly to the doors, I heard Manny speak up to ask, "Something change with the boss and Bomber?"

As much as I wanted to turn around and tell him it certainly had, I forced myself to keep walking.

Thankfully, Tank had the right words when he answered, "Yeah... Over the last few days, they finally got their shit together."

"'Bout damn time," Junior threw in.

"Yeah, but this is a bit much to handle at the start of a new relationship," Erik interjected.

"This ain't new," Tank corrected. "This is just them finally admitting what we all knew. That's his woman, and he's her man. Her ears have nothing to do with that."

I hit the swinging doors, content to leave the guys to accept what I already knew was true. I might have only had twenty-four stress free hours as her partner, but it was enough to let me know I'd never let her go. This wasn't going to be easy, but she was never going to feel like she was facing this alone.


	5. Helping Hands

_JE deserves all the credit for the characters below. I'm just using them for my own amusement instead of working like I'm supposed to be right now._

_Jenny (JenRar) once again, you have proven yourself to be a wonderful beta, and a top notch cheerleader. Sending off chapters is so much fun knowing I'll get your feedback in return._

**Chapter 5 – Helping Hands**

Watching the saline and medication slowly drip through Stephanie's IV tubing, I couldn't help but wonder how much time I'd spent in hospitals. Despite my less than safe occupation, I was pretty sure I'd spent more time by Stephanie's side than here because of my own injuries. I pushed a stubborn curl away from her face, and then traced the shell of her ear once more.

The doctor assured me she was fine and would wake up anytime. Hopefully, she'd wake up on her own before the nurses began her every-two-hour concussion checks. I knew she was tired, and the injuries and pain medication were only compounding that exhaustion, but I was desperate to see her eyes open to know for myself that she was all right.

I'd been running through different ways to explain to Stephanie the damage to her ears and how to give her the worst case scenario without taking away her ability to hope for a miracle. But the truth was, this was Stephanie we were talking about, and her life tended to operate as though Murphy's Law were the only applicable principle.

I'd gotten a little information from a very patient older nurse the last time she came in and run Steph's vitals. She told me that talking wouldn't be an issue, but she'd have to relearn volume control, as she would be tempted to talk either too softly or too loudly. But the biggest concern, at least for the nurse, was that from the moment Stephanie woke up, she wouldn't be able to hear us tell her about her injuries, and the concussion was going to give her a massive headache, so reading long, handwritten notes might be painful. We'd have to communicate as efficiently as possible and give her the basic necessary details now, and then give her the whole story once she felt up to reading more.

I knew I should be using the time she was unconscious to write out a note for her to read, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I needed to see the steady rise and fall of her chest and the occasional wrinkle in her forehead to assure myself she was just sleeping. The shit was too close today.

I knew it wasn't a skip or an enemy of mine that had caused the explosion, but it could have been. I'd let her go into an unknown situation completely alone, knowing her hearing was already compromised. She could have been killed because I was so damn distracted smiling and trying to be the guy she needed. There had to be a way to balance the demand she has for independence with my need to look after her. We were going to have to figure that out – and quick, because this injury was going to put me over the top in trying to protect her.

While I was lost in the details of how to keep someone glued to her side twenty-four hours a day without her feeling smothered, I noticed her hand twitch. My gaze went to her face, just as her eyes began to flicker open. She went from completely out of it, to struggling to sit up and mildly panicked much faster than I was expecting her to.

I jumped up to get in her direct field of vision and put my arms around her so she would know she was safe. And even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I found myself saying all the things I usually said to her when she was upset.

She grabbed my arms with her hands and held on tightly, clueing me in to just how frightening this whole experience was for her.

She settled down when she focused on my face, and I tapped down the little puff up of pride within me that I had that effect on her. Brushing her hair back from her face, I smiled at her, hoping it would reassure her that she was going to be all right.

"Ranger," she spoke on a breath out. "The explosion…" She obviously remembered at least part of what had happened. "Is everyone all right?" She was once again thinking of everyone above herself – even the old lady whose carelessness, or more likely forgetfulness, had caused the accident in the first place. It was one of the things you couldn't help but love about her.

I couldn't answer right away. I wasn't sure how to communicate with her, and I was so damned relieved that she was awake and seemingly fine. I moved my hands to cup her face and leaned down to kiss her. Stephanie didn't hesitate to kiss me back, apparently on board with celebrating her cheating of death once more.

Her arms tightened around me when my tongue entered her mouth, and I reveled in the low moan that she released. This was my woman, and even if she couldn't hear me, she was the same, right down to her reactions to my kisses. Before I could take the kiss to a different rating, the door to her room opened, and the nurse that had been so helpful to me earlier walked in.

We broke apart, and Stephanie buried her head against my chest.

The nurse smiled and said, "I came in to see if our patient was awake, and I can see that is a resounding yes."

Then she came over and sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side from me. She pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. While I was wasting time staring at Stephanie, the nurse had apparently used her time more wisely and had typed in a large, bold font, making it easy to read, and handed Stephanie the summary of what had happened and what she needed to know.

_Ms. Plum ~ I'm sure you have many questions, but you need to know that from the explosion earlier tonight, you suffered a concussion and severe bruising. While you are going to be sore for some time, and the headache will be bothersome, you will be fine. However, the sound from the explosion has damaged both of your ears to such a degree that we do not believe you will be able to hear at all initially. As the inner ears heal, you may regain some hearing, but at least for the next few weeks, we expect you to experience ringing in your ears as your only auditory signal._

It was direct, honest, and yet still gave Stephanie the hope of regaining some hearing over time without promising it. I could see from Stephanie's eyes that she was reading and rereading the note.

She finally looked up and said, "I'm deaf."

The nurse picked up a legal pad and a wide pen to respond. _No, you have a temporary hearing loss. Your doctor will explain more tomorrow after he checks out the damage while you're awake_.

"When can I go home?" Stephanie asked in a very soft voice.

The nurse smiled and wrote, _Tomorrow_. _I'll be waking you every two hours for the concussion, and if all goes well with your check up in the morning, you can be released into Mr. Brown's care._

Steph nodded and leaned back into my chest. I knew she hadn't run out of questions, she just needed a little time to wrap her mind around what she had learned so far. I thanked the nurse, who cupped Stephanie's face and smiled at her once more in a warm, motherly way.

"Thank you, Betsy," Stephanie replied, obviously appreciating the gesture and being more observant than I had been in calling the nurse by the name clipped to her uniform.

"Do you need anything?" the woman I now knew as Betsy asked me. "I'm just guessing that you'll be here all night."

I nodded that she was correct and declined anything. Just before she reached the door, I said, "Thank you for typing that out. I didn't know how to tell her."

"It's not your job to tell her," the nurse corrected me. "It's your job to support her and encourage her while she deals with all of this, but explaining the ins and outs of her body is our job."

I couldn't stop the feeling of relief at her words. I could handle this the way she explained it. I looked down at Stephanie and let my blank face go so that everything I was feeling would be evident on my face. Then I willed Stephanie to understand and accept that I was staying with her, no matter what the future held.

Her arms tightened against me, and I hoped that meant she'd gotten the message loud and clear. I pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, still able to catch some of the scent of her shampoo over the ash and smoky smell from the explosion.

Steph pulled back and scooted over, grimacing a little from the pain of moving. She patted the bed next to her, before asking, "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," I replied with a smile, without considering she might not understand. I moved to stretch out beside her on the bed, my leg appreciating the change in position immediately.

Two hours later, I jerked awake when the nurse returned.

"Do you want to wake her up?" she asked, giving me the chance to do it, probably knowing Stephanie wouldn't be as disoriented if she could see me when her eyes opened.

I ran my finger along the edge of her face and said her name, before remembering that wasn't going to do anything. I pulled her hands away from my chest and moved back a little to break the connection between us. Her eyes bolted open then, and she moved to see why I wasn't holding her.

I cupped her face to get her attention quickly, before her mind went wild with various possibilities. I could see her mind spinning, before she looked behind her to see the nurse watching us closely.

"Concussion check, right?"

That earned her another smile and a nod of agreement. "See you in two hours," the nurse said before leaving.

"Wasn't she supposed to ask me questions to be sure I knew the date or the president?" Stephanie asked, a little amused by our easy going nurse.

"I guess since you knew enough to know why she was here, that was good enough," I replied, as Steph's brow furrowed, obviously not understanding what I was saying, but trying to figure it out anyway.

I pulled her to my side and pushed a little against her head so she would relax against me. It didn't take long before I felt her relax back into sleep.

Our routine repeated itself five more times through the night. At eight, after the shift change, a new nurse came in and spoke very loudly near Stephanie's ear, waking me up with enough of a start that my movement yanked Steph from her slumber, as well.

I was still coming down from the stress and sleep deprivation of my mission on top of my injury, so I understood why I would be so out of it, but I didn't like that someone had gotten the slip on me. I was going to have to go back to Haywood when we left the hospital, just so we'd both know that someone was there to watch our backs. I trusted the security at my house, but I wasn't going to tempt fate by relying only on that to keep my woman safe.

Stephanie leaned into me when she saw the nurse standing over us.

"Ms. Plum, I need to take your vitals," she practically yelled at Stephanie.

Steph looked at me with a very confused expression. I reached over the small table next to the bed and picked up the pad and marker Betsy had left during the night and wrote _vitals_, before turning it for Stephanie to read. Her shoulders immediately relaxed, just knowing what was happening around her.

After all the initial tests were taken and everything appeared to be normal, I asked when we should expect to see her doctor to discuss being released.

"Not until this afternoon. He doesn't have time for rounds when there is only one patient waiting for him," she replied curtly, hooking my temper in a way that I was conscious of, but unable to fight against.

Fortunately for her, Bobby walked in, with Stephanie's doctor right behind him. The nurse rolled her eyes beyond anything I'd even seen Steph attempt, and then walked out.

The doctor came over and handed Stephanie a sheet of paper that asked if it was all right for him to examine her ears. She nodded and turned in the bed so he would have better access. The doctor used an otoscope and spent longer than I'd ever seen looking at the mystery of her inner ear. He turned her head gently and repeated his study on the other side, before stepping back and flipping through a folder to pull out another printed piece of paper.

The paper gave her a few more details about the specific damage to the various parts of her ear and how the severity of each individual injury plus the complexity of them all being involved meant she could not hear at this time. He told her he wanted to assess her again in six weeks to see if a surgical repair might be an option to restore at least some of her hearing, but he warned her that there was no way for him to tell now if she would even be a candidate for that type of surgery. In the meantime, he suggested she do whatever she could to adapt to the limitation, and he provided her with a list of resources that could offer support. He also gave her a prescription for drops that would help with pain relief as the injuries healed, and that could lessen the amount of ringing that she was no doubt still experiencing. She relaxed slightly when she read the bottom that indicated the ringing would not be permanent, and he hoped it would subside over the next three to five days. Clearly, she didn't enjoy that side effect of her injury.

Then he handed Bobby a thick folder that I knew included much more detailed information about Stephanie's injury and treatment, before signing off on her chart and saying we were free to leave whenever she was ready.

Stephanie flipped to the referral pages and gave them a quick glance, but I could tell she was overwhelmed after reading about lip reading, sign language, household adjustments, and nursing care suggestions. I looked at her as Bobby finished asking his remaining questions to the doctor and thought she looked so lost.

I picked up the pad I'd used earlier and wrote, _Rex is in my apartment at Haywood._ The guys noticed that she had already carried the little guy down and used a seat belt in my Porsche to secure his cage in the seat, so they'd taken him up to seven to wait for us there. The explosion had rained down enough debris to knock the GPS sensor off-line, but the interior of the car was not damanged so her hamster had survived, even though he was reluctant to leave his soup can after all the excitement.

She gave me a grin that told me not only was she glad to know that piece of information, but the fact that I was giving her time to adjust to all this without hitting her up with questions and suggestions was a gift in and of itself. I wasn't a big fan of her living in denial in some instances, but in this case, I couldn't see the harm. Sometimes, in order to feel normal, you had to be allowed to act normal, and right now, I could see that was exactly what she needed.

An hour later, we were pulling into the garage at Haywood, with Bobby driving us both.

Steph turned to me and spoke in her new, softer voice, "I don't want to see the guys."

I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering why she wanted to avoid them. I'd do whatever she wanted, but I knew they were probably hoping to see for themselves that she was okay.

She knew what I wanted just from my expression, so she sat back and said, "I don't want their pity, and I can't hear them if they ask me any questions. I'll go see them after I've gotten a handle on how to communicate, but I'm not ready to face them. Not yet."

I nodded and said, "Okay, Babe, not yet." Then I pulled my cell phone and held it so that she could see my text to Tank.

_No stops on the elevator to seven._

"Thank you," she said with a squeeze to my arm.

I knew she couldn't hide in the apartment forever, but I couldn't deny her the chance to at least escape there for a little while.

Bobby escorted us to seven, set Stephanie's ear drops on the counter, and pulled some paper off a table on the bar to write the instructions for their use. He also left her the prescription pain medication and a bottle of Advil, with directions to take the prescription each night – at least this evening to insure she slept – and to take Advil during the day if she wanted to avoid the hazy feeling.

Then he came right up to Stephanie and held his hands out, giving her the option of hugging him. She didn't hesitate to walk into his embrace. While I wanted to be the one that comforted her, I recognized that my men needed the chance to connect with her, too. One of the reasons I'd fallen so hard for her was that she'd accepted and cared for my men. I couldn't resent them for rallying around her now that she needed it.

When he pulled back, he picked up his phone, slid it open to type out something, and then he handed it to her to read. After a quick look, she handed it back and kissed him on the cheek, before thanking him and walking back over to my side. I pulled her tightly against me, relieved that she didn't fight against me pulling her to me.

After Bobby left, she let out a long sigh and looked around, as though she didn't know what to do next. I was at a loss, too, as I realized most of the things that had worked in the past were no longer easy options. She couldn't listen to music or hear the television or a movie. She no doubt still had a headache, so suggesting she read a book wasn't going to fly, either.

I heard her sigh and tightened my grip on her, trying to let my actions communicate more than my lack of words did. She broke the silence while my mind was still spinning for something useful to say.

"I keep thinking there has to be a good side here somewhere, but I haven't come up with it yet."

My back straightened at her comment. That was just enough of a challenge to motivate me to come up with something, even if it was a joke.

The house phone rang, which Stephanie couldn't hear, but it was exactly what I needed. I picked up the tablet Bobby had used to make notes for her medication and wrote, _At__ least you don't have to listen to your mother complain about your apartment blowing up_.

Stephanie looked at my note. I followed her eyes as they went over the two handwritten lines several times. The silence with no reaction forced me to began rethinking my approach of using humor this soon. Maybe she thought I was making light of this and I'd hurt her. I was about to apologize for being so insensitive, when Steph's body began to shake. I leaned down a little to better read her face and saw she had been attempting to hold back a laugh and was now failing. Within seconds, the apartment was flooded with the glorious sound of her laughter. I knew she was letting out more than her amusement at my off-handed comment, but Stephanie always preferred to laugh than cry, and now seemed like as good a time as any to test that out.

As she pulled herself together, she said, "And I don't have to listen to the gossip mongers in the 'Burg every time I walk into a store."

I took the tablet away and added, "_Or listen__ to your Grandmother tell you about her latest conquest and their sexual escapades_."

We both shivered at the memory of her doing that very thing. I was a pretty opened-minded man when it came to sex. There was no point in being judgmental about the fetishes and dare devil things people did, as I had probably either attempted them or done them in my life, but something about listening to Edna Mazur go on and on about her and an eighty-year-old former swimmer going at it made me feel the need to come home and take a long shower, wishing that cleaning my mind was as easy as scrubbing my body.

"I can eat without the forced guilt of someone telling me it's not good for me," she offered with a smile.

I joined in writing, _And__ you can eat in peace in public without hearing the sound of cell phones taking your picture_.

"Oh, I hate that," she agreed. "No more demanding phone calls from my mother informing me that she expects me to come to dinner."

_The noise level at your family dinners when your sister's children are running around is no longer an issue_, I quickly jotted down.

"Shit, if the doctor offers me a chance to fix my ears, I may decline his offer. Selective deafness has worked for husbands through the years, but having the real deal is an excuse for just about anything I don't want to do," she laughed, standing a little stronger.

We hadn't fixed her circumstances, but at least for a brief moment, we had changed her point of view and made it a little more acceptable.

She took a step away, so I let her go, watching to see what she was up to. Opening the fridge, she looked in, before making a face and moving to the cupboards. Each door was opened, and she looked in carefully, before closing it and moving to the next. Finally, she pulled a chair from the dining room table over and climbed up on it. I stood there, curious about what was going on, but I didn't want to get in her way.

She finally smiled and reached into the back of the corner cabinet, pulling out a package of Tasty Cakes. I hadn't known those were in there, which made me think she'd hidden them during one of her previous stays.

Stephanie looked at me and must have seen my confusion, because she explained, "Ella promised she'd keep something hidden in here for me for emergency purposes. I'm pretty sure this counts as an emergency, so I'm helping myself."

"It's all yours," I said, gesturing with my hand for her to help herself.

Her head turned to the side like a puppy trying to figure out the words spoken by its owner. "What did you say?"

I lifted the tablet, about to write the words, but stopped and looked at her. I said, "It's all yours," again, but I said it slower and let my lips move in a more definite way.

"All mine?" she guessed.

I didn't stop the smile that crossed my face at her right answer. "Proud of you, Babe," I told her, knowing by the grin on her face that she understood that often repeated phrase.

She was halfway through her snack cake when someone knocked on the door. Her eyes were closed, absorbing whatever value the empty calories had to offer her, so I touched her shoulder to get her attention. Her blue eyes shot open, focusing on my face for a clue about why I'd interrupted her little escape.

I help up the paper once more so she could see my warning that someone was at the door. She brushed the crumbs off her lips, and then off her shirt, before nodding that it was okay to answer the knock.

I opened the door to see Tank and Hector standing there, each with a box containing various electronic devices. I didn't know what they were up to, but the smile on my old friend's face told me it was okay to let them in.

Stephanie walked around the bar to stand at the edge of the den, too curious to hide away, despite not wanting to admit her limitations to the guys yet.

I grabbed the pad and pen once more and sat down on the sofa, pulling Stephanie to sit beside me so she could read whatever I wrote to know what was going on around her.

Tank began by explaining that he'd charged Hector with the task of finding some electronics that could help to minimize the communication issues for Stephanie while her ears were healing. It looked like Hector had taken the job seriously, as the equipment in their boxes had probably made some commission salesperson at a computer store very happy.

Steph's smile faded a little when she realized what they had was for her, but she wasn't making a move to leave, which was a relief.

Tank turned it over to Hector to run through everything. First, he pulled what looked like a two sided monitor with miniature keyboards attached to both sides. It was already on, so he set it up on the coffee table and motioned for Tank to come over and use it. Tank tapped the monitor, indicating Stephanie should look there, and then he typed on the other side, explaining this was to stay on her desk. When people came to see her, they would use this to type what they wanted to say, and she could read as they typed, which would allow her to respond as soon as they were done.

He pulled out an iPad in a fancy case that was covered with bright colors, almost looking more like a portfolio than a piece of gear. Hector handed it to Tank again, who opened the cover to display the screen facing her and a keyboard secured on the other side. He typed that she could take this with her anywhere she went so people could type and she could read, but it was portable enough to be practical offsite. I took it from him and typed the question, _Are__ you okay with this so far_?

She took it from me and hit the home button, clearly knowing her way around Apple products, and then browsed the other apps that had been loaded, including the book reader that appeared to be stocked with an impressive number of titles. She looked up, grinning, and nodded her head yes.

They'd brought a new cell phone with a stronger vibration ringer, and Tank pulled out a box that he said Hector would be installing beside the door to my apartment. It appeared to be a normal looking doorbell, but it would dim the house lights when someone rang it, so she would know someone was at the door. I thought it was interesting that they had brought equipment to altar my apartment without discussing it with me first. Of course, I wouldn't have stopped them, but I glanced at Tank, who had a knowing smirk on his face. Son of a bitch knew there'd been nothing I would deny Stephanie when we weren't together, so he knew our new relationship would only make me all the more determined to provide for her now.

They pulled up a remote control, the same brand as my television. Hector tapped a red button on it, showing us both that it controlled the closed captioned subtitles on the screen. I guess that answered the question of how she would watch movies or television.

Hector pulled out a laptop, which Stephanie objected to. "I already have a laptop."

Tank picked up the iPad and typed, _True__, but this one has a software package on it that you probably don't want to use when you're working_.

Both her eyebrows shot up, which was the equivalent of a questioning expression from her.

Hector showed her a nearly blank desktop, except for a program icon that he double clicked, which opened a software program designed to teach her sign language.

He spoke to me in Spanish. "My sister was deaf. I used this to learn to talk to her. I can sign for her, but she needs to learn to read it. This will help."

"Gracias," I replied, knowing it didn't begin to scratch the surface.

"De nada," he assured me, looking back to Stephanie, who was clicking her way through the opening signs, already absorbing what was there.

"Any voice recognition software?" I asked, wishing there was a way for people to talk without having to type.

Tank moved his head to the side. "It exists, but it isn't very accommodating to accents or varying voices. We could probably get some tailored to your voice if you wanted it."

Seeing she was distracted, Tank added, "If she has an interest in reading lips, you can suggest she talk to Zip. It was part of his training in the Army, and he's damn good at it. That way, she could eliminate the need for electronics completely."

I had known that, but with all the stress of her being hurt, I had completely forgotten. I'd used Zip's ability to read lips to gather some useful intel by putting him at a safe distance and giving him a rifle scope and a pad of paper. It's amazing the things people will say while facing a window, foolishly assuming the glass somehow offers their secrets protection.

Steph looked up from her computer and touched Hector's hand, before placing her fingertips to her chin and moving them away from her face and slightly down at the same time. Hector repeated her motion twice, and then reached out to squeeze her hand.

She beamed at him from their brief dialogue, and I had a feeling whatever had passed between them was the first step of Stephanie retaking her independence, so it was a good thing.

She looked around at the gear the guys had provided her, and then looked to me with a combination of guilt and gratitude.

Before she could begin complaining about what we shouldn't have done, I grabbed the iPad to type a simple message.

_No price, remember?_

"I remember, but I didn't know this was what it meant," she replied, growing overwhelmed.

I could see she was about to get emotional and figured it was probably a good idea to break the mood a little, so I typed, _Just because you don't have to listen to what other people are __saying doesn't__ mean you can't._

"But all these tools can be our little secret to the 'Burg, right?" she teased back, not wanting to let on that there were easy ways for her family to invade her head after we'd just listed blocking them as a benefit.

I laughed and moved so that we were closer together. I couldn't help but notice the approving faces Tank and Hector were sporting. Obviously, they liked the way I was handling this, which was slightly insulting. Had they really thought there was a chance I'd bail on her? And if they thought it, did that mean Stephanie still held that fear, as well?

I knew that some things could only be shown over time, and while this might be one of those things, I intended to begin proving to her right away just how committed I was. It might take me all night long and carry over for days, but when I was finished, she was going to know in the deepest part of her how I felt. Of course, she might be too exhausted to care…but at least she'd know.


	6. Family

_Unfortunately, none of the characters below are from my own creativity. JE deserves all the credit._

_Jenny (JenRar) I can't find the right words to express how I feel about the work you have put into this story so far as the beta. Thank you isn't sufficient, but it's all I have._

**Chapter 6 – Family **

I knew I was cutting it close, but I was glad I'd stayed downstairs the extra time, as it allowed me to handle a client call and talk him down from the major fit he was throwing over some vandals at his store. I agreed to increase drive-bys from RangeMan and promised to have an additional camera installed at the front of the store to capture the people responsible for the damage.

I'd only left myself twenty minutes to shower and change before Stephanie and I had to leave in order to make it to her parents' house for dinner on time. She'd been avoiding them all week, but this morning, her mother had called and left the demand that either Stephanie showed up for dinner this evening, or she was sending Joe over to find out why her daughter had disappeared.

I knew Joe had explained everything to the Plums regarding Steph's injuries, but her parents wanted to see for themselves that she was all right. And as much as I didn't want to go, I could totally understand their point of view. I knew Stephanie would be more comfortable with me there, so I didn't hesitate to volunteer.

She was still a little sore from the bruising caused by the pressure and force of the explosion, but it was so much better than it had been. She was moving around mostly up to speed and no longer grimaced when she had to bend over or stand up. Her torso still looked like she'd been dipped in a vat of blue ink, but even that was beginning to lighten and look better.

There was still no change in her hearing, though, and while that might have discouraged some people, Stephanie seemed to be handling it by taking intensive courses in sign language and lip reading. I knew it was a way to take control of her life, since she felt that things were so far out of her hands, but I worried that it was also a form of denial. She was hiding in the apartment on seven, with the excuse of needing to learn how to communicate. I had a hard time coming up with a valid reason to object to her self-imposed exile.

Fortunately, a Plum family dinner provided a possibility to get her out of the building that she couldn't turn down. She was anxious and didn't want to go, but she'd agreed to do it as long as I stayed with her.

We were going to take her iPad and keyboard kit, along with a pad of paper and a pen, so her family could talk to her. She worried they would be irritated with the idea of having to type or write instead of talking to her. I promised that I would be her scribe if her family didn't want to put forth the effort.

I let myself in the door just in time to hear Stephanie complain, "But they look exactly the same."

Zip was apparently still there working on lip reading with her. I could hear him typing a response and her sigh in response and smiled. I'd worked with Zip for five years, first in the Army, and then at RangeMan as soon as he was ready for a civilian job. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was usually worth listening to. I wondered how he would do around Stephanie, who was a steady stream of conversation, but they both seemed to be enjoying their sessions.

I'd asked Zip in the gym this morning how she was doing, and he said he thought she was learning really quickly because of her people reading skills. She was great at picking up the small cues that helped her deduce what was being said. He felt like she was better at it than she thought and hoped her level of confidence would come in time. Amazingly, with the hours each day they'd been putting in, he felt like he would run out of things to teach her in a day or two and had begun to suggest to Stephanie that they pull back the intensive nature of their time together so she could spend more time practicing.

He was also shocked to hear that I was still typing or writing out what I needed to say. He'd encouraged me to stop and make her try to read my lips first so that she would be motivated to hone her reading skills.

I knew he was right, but I was struggling to do it. I hated the look of confusion that would come over her face when she was missing something, and I hated the idea of intentionally putting her in a place where she wasn't comfortable.

When I came around the corner, Zip looked up at me and lifted his chin in greeting. Stephanie noticed the change in her instructor and turned around to see me watching them, giving me one of her smiles that warmed the center of my chest in a way nothing else could.

I tapped my watch and said, "You ready?"

She turned around to see the clock on the wall over the bar, and then jumped up, as though her chair had an electric current running through it. "Oh, God, I'm late. I need to change and get ready," she announced, before taking off toward the bedroom.

When the bedroom door closed, Zip stood up and walked over to me.

"How'd she do?" I asked, feeling slightly guilty for checking up on her, like I wanted a sneak peek at her report card.

He shrugged, the master of understatements, and said, "She can do this, but when she gets one thing wrong or can't figure it out, she forgets all about the hundred she just got right."

That sounded like her. Years of being told she wasn't doing the right things in the right way had done a number on her self-confidence. I knew her family meant well, but there were times when I just wanted to lock her up, away from their grasp, to save her from their interference.

But this was Stephanie I was talking about. Locking her up would never work, and I knew better than to try it. I'd watched too many other people attempt it and fail that I recognized a lost cause when I saw one.

Zip brought me back to the present by saying, "Let her know I'll work with her tomorrow, but I want her to come downstairs to the break room for it. That way, she can practice listening in on other people, without them knowing, to test out what she can do."

Knowing how curious Stephanie was, I figured that would be right up her alley, so I thought he had come up with another offer she wouldn't be able to refuse.

I slipped into our bedroom just in time to see Stephanie wearing nothing but a royal blue bra and panty set. She was staring into the closet, as though the outfit she was supposed to wear this evening was going to jump out at her. I couldn't stop myself from coming up behind her and slipping my arms around her waist. Her head relaxed back against my neck and shoulder, and she took a deep breath, like she was trying to draw my strength into her body.

The alarm clock on the nightstand was blaring the fact that I now had less than fifteen minutes to get ready, so I reluctantly pulled back and kissed her on the cheek, before jumping in the shower.

When I got out, I found Stephanie in exactly the same place I'd left her. I moved past, not wanting to interfere with whatever process she was going through to get ready, and grabbed a pair of tan dress pants and an olive green silk shirt. I figured a little color might help to lighten my influence at the dinner table.

I turned to face Stephanie as I was buttoning up my shirt and noticed she was staring at me with a look of pure hunger in her eyes. As flattering as it was, I was convinced if I took the five steps between us, we would definitely miss dinner, and I knew it was important. So instead of doing what my body wanted, I went to her side of the closet and pulled out a fitted, yet conservative skirt and a blouse that was deep blue to match her eyes and handed them to her. Fortunately, she took them and started getting dressed.

I strapped a holster on my leg and put a knife on my belt. I hated that I couldn't put a gun at my waist, too, but I felt like that might be a little over the top with her family. While I was debating the merits of throwing on a sports coat so I could wear a shoulder holster anyway, Stephanie stepped into my field of vision, putting the final earring in to make her a true vision of loveliness.

I shook my head at my own thought. I'd never used a word like lovely before. Hell, most of the guys would probably bust a gut if they'd heard that thought, but it was the only thing that fit. She was soft and tender on the outside, but an absolute warrior on the inside. The combination that I knew only I was fully privy to was enough to knock my vocabulary down to words I used to hear my father use about my mother.

She used her hands to brush down the sides of her skirt, and then asked, "Do I look okay?"

I stood up, unable to hold back, and stopped when my hands framed her face and my body was just touching hers, to reply, "You are beautiful."

Her face blushed, and I knew she'd understood me. I realized then that I'd missed _this_. We talked all the time now. She would email me throughout the day, and at night, I typed until my wrists were tired from it so we could have a conversation. The hours we spent on the couch with a glass of wine were wonderful and had pulled us closer together without a doubt. But I missed being able to watch her reactions as I spoke. I missed the connection of saying things I meant with all my heart, while looking in her eyes so she would know just how serious I was about what I was saying. Maybe Zip was right, and it was time to stop typing so she could practice her lip reading skills.

I forced myself to hold back and place a light kiss on her lips. Hopefully, it was enough to help her understand that when we got back, we weren't going straight back to sleep. And as she walked away from me to grab her purse, I watched the skirt hug her hips and ass and moved the zipper of my pants to make more room. No, we were definitely not going to sleep as soon as we got home.

Steph's grandmother was standing at the door when we pulled up. I'd never understood how her relatives knew when to appear so they always caught our arrival. I was glad that Stephanie waited so that I could open her door and give her my hand to pull herself up with. She made no move to release me after standing, so I shifted my hand to cross our fingers and squeezed a little to reassure her everything was going to be fine.

She tightened her grip on her bag, which I knew contained the supplies she'd brought to help communicate, and we made our way up to her grandmother, who flung the door open with a smile.

She gripped Stephanie's shoulders with her frail looking hands and grinned at her, saying, "It's good to see you, baby girl."

Stephanie smiled at her and repeated, "It's good to see you, too."

I was so proud of her. Her time cramming with Zip had obviously paid off, and being able to respond to her crazy relative had put a huge smile on the old woman's face.

I found myself copying it, until she looked up at me and said, "And you brought me a little something to look at while you're visiting. It's nice to see that hot package in something other than work clothes."

And just like that, I began to wonder if I'd made a monumental mistake in coming here tonight. I could face terrorists, drug cartels, convicted felons, and psychopaths without once second guessing myself or playing a defensive role. But ten seconds near her grandmother, and I was already looking for an exit and trying to position myself so that Stephanie was between us. What kind of man uses his woman as a shield from the thing he's afraid of?

Steph looked at me, slightly confused but still amused at my response, before looking back to her grandmother and telling her, "Behave. He's here for me, not you."

That only made her smile bigger. "Hot damn, my granddaughter has bagged her a good one."

I'd had plenty of women fall over me, and quite a few mothers try and push their daughters on me, but I'd never felt as much like a piece of meat for the taking as I did when Edna Mazur used her tongue to push her dentures down and wiggle them around with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Just wait until your mother hears the news," Edna said with a cackle.

"Hears what news?" Helen came around the corner to ask. When she saw us, she stopped and glanced at each of us, her eyes resting on our joined hands briefly. Then she seemed to shake herself out of her stupor and came much closer, before practically yelling, "Don't just stand there. Come in the house so the neighbors won't stare, trying to figure out what's going on at our door."

Stephanie blinked a few times, like she was trying to figure out what had just happened, before looking at me to ask, "Is she yelling at me?"

"Yes," I answered her honestly, not seeing the point in holding back from her. "But I think she's doing it in the hope that you'll be able to hear her, not because she's mad."

Stephanie shook her head at my response, causing me to wonder if she'd understood me, or if she was disagreeing with my assessment.

Still, we followed Helen's directions and shut the front door to keep the neighbors from peering in. I would have labeled her as paranoid, but I could feel eyes on me, and I knew she was right. The neighbors were definitely watching.

Her mother began talking as she walked toward the kitchen, meaning Stephanie was oblivious to anything being said. "Mrs. Plum," I said, wanting to be sure she was actually aware of her daughter's condition. "Stephanie can't hear you."

"Oh!" She stopped briefly, and then spoke twice as loud, repeating what she'd just said.

I allowed her to lead us to the kitchen, where Stephanie took a seat on a stool at the bar, while her mother took the place of ruler of the kitchen kingdom on the other side.

"Mrs. Plum, I'm not sure what you know about Stephanie's hearing," I began, before Helen interrupted.

"Joe told me all about it. He said the explosion in her apartment had messed up both her ears and the doctors were waiting as everything healed to see what her hearing would be like."

I wondered if that were exactly what Joe had said, or if it was just what she had elected to take away from the details given to her. "Actually, it's a little more complicated than that," I attempted to correct her.

Helen waved a hand in the air and turned her back to the stove, where potatoes were boiling in a big pot. "Nonsense. Stephanie will be fine. She might have a little ringing in her ears, and no doubt it's been painful, but she will pull through this just like she always does. If she can survive gun shot wounds and cars blowing up, she can survive a little damage to her ears."

I turned myself slightly to the side so that Stephanie couldn't see my lips completely, feeling badly for shutting her out, but needing the privacy to make my point bluntly to her mother. "Mrs. Plum, at the moment, Stephanie is completely deaf. She has no ability to hear anything other than the constant ringing in her ears. She has been working for hours each day to learn how to read lips, but unless you are looking directly at her and speaking slowly, she has no chance of picking up on what you're saying. The doctor has agreed to reassess her in another five weeks to see if there might be a surgical correction that can be done to help repair the damage and restore some of her hearing, but he wasn't overly optimistic about that as a possibility. You need to understand, there is a very real chance that Stephanie will never hear again, and even if she does have the surgery and it's successful, it would only restore part of her hearing."

Helen spun around and looked at Stephanie, and then back to me. "If she can't hear me, what's the point of talking to her?"

I was a patient man, but this woman had me grateful that I hadn't worn the jacket to cover up a shoulder holster after all. My trigger finger was itching from her insensitivity, and I didn't think watching me pull a weapon on her mother would be appreciated, regardless of how well intentioned I was. I took a deep breath and said, "She's been taking classes in lip reading, so if you speak slower and look directly at her, there's a good chance she will be able to pick up what you're saying. But since she's still new to it, she also brought some paper and a pen, as well as a keyboard so you can type what you want to say, and then she can speak back."

"How can she speak back?" Helen asked, obviously not having much experience around someone who was hearing impaired.

"I open my mouth and words come out, the same as you," Stephanie answered her mother's question, exhibiting the fire I most loved about her.

I tried to hold back my smile, but failed. Instead, I tapped Steph on her arm to get her attention and put my fist at my belt, before pulling it up over my chest, and then pointing directly at the woman I loved. She recognized the sign for _proud of you_ that Hector had taught me and grinned at me, before signing _thank you_ in return.

"Am I going to have to learn how to do that, too?" her mother asked, not appreciating us communicating and leaving her out.

"No," I replied quickly, trying to answer calmly for Stephanie's sake more than her mother's. "Stephanie's been learning it because it isn't always possible to type or write what is being said, so it is helpful for her to know, but she isn't proficient beyond a few words and phrases and the alphabet. But at the rate she's been picking it up, I'd guess it won't take her long to be fluent."

"Of course not," Steph's grandmother interrupted. "She gets that from me. I'm real good at things that use my body, and my granddaughter takes after me."

I thought I controlled my shiver at that image, until Steph touched my arm and asked, "Do I want to know?"

I grabbed the iPad and used it to respond so her family would understand how to do it. I typed, _Please don't make me tell you. I don't want that image stuck in my head long enough to relive it again._

Mrs. Mazur came over and looked at how I was typing and Steph was reading on the screen and asked if she could try it. I handed it over gladly. Despite her honestly making me nervous, she loved her granddaughter, and I was impressed that a woman in her eighties was stepping up to try something new in order to communicate with Stephanie, before even her mother tried it.

I stood up and gave Edna my stool so she and Stephanie could be closer together. She typed slowly, but eventually, using only her two index fingers, she got a full message in.

Stephanie laughed, before saying, "I know there are more details than that. There's no way a cat just naturally loses all its hair overnight."

I wasn't usually a nosy person, but a sentence like that was too hard to resist, and I wondered exactly what Edna had said, so I stood behind Stephanie, under the guise of rubbing her shoulders, while looking over them at the screen filling up with characters. Apparently, Mrs. Mazur had initially said that she was glad Stephanie had come over, because the only other thing of any excitement from this week had been Mrs. Lewinsky's newly bald cat.

After the request for more details, she sat there happily typing away with a nearly evil grin on her face.

_You__ know Mrs. Lewinsky had been bragging all over the neighborhood about her new fella named Wilber. He was spry and could still __drive, so__ he was quite a catch. Word is one night after they'd tried to get it on and Wilber couldn't fully __perform, she__ asked if there was anything she could do that might help him. He thought about it and finally said he'd always thought a clean shaved pussy was __sexy, and__ he was positive if he could see her pussy with no __hair, it__ would be enough to turn him on. They had another date three days later. Wilber went __into__ her __house, and__ after only ten __minutes, he __left. Mrs__. Lewinsky __yelled__ at him from the porch that if he was going to laugh at __her, he__ didn't need to bother coming back. I guess she didn't know that a pussy was a part of her anatomy and had taken her cat to a __groomer, instead__. She told the girls at the clip and curl that she thought it was a strange __request, but__ her daughter had told her guys were into weird things these __days, so__ she just went with it to show how hip she could be._

I had to look away to keep from laughing along with Stephanie by the time her grandmother had spun the whole tale. Helen interrupted by grabbing the pad and pen to write _set the table_ and pushed it toward Stephanie. Edna amused herself by closing out the word processor and playing with Stephanie's apps, while Steph disappeared back to the dining room with silverware and napkins. She was just touching random icons, so I made a mental note to have Hector look at it tomorrow to be sure she hasn't screwed anything up or downloaded any kind of strange porn with Stephanie's internet access.

"She's going to be all right, Mrs. Plum," I tried to reassure her, wondering if I'd been wrong to be so direct earlier.

"But she can't hear," Helen corrected me. "I'm no fool; I know that a woman who is constantly in danger and can't hear is just trouble waiting to happen. Her body will heal from the explosion, but what kind of call should I expect next?"

For the first time ever, I felt sorry for the woman bustling around in front of me. She wasn't being cold because she didn't like Stephanie; she was doing it out of concern. Admittedly, it was the wrong reaction, but understanding her point of view was helpful.

"Stephanie has been staying with me in my apartment. I'll keep her safe while she heals, and when she's better, we'll figure out how to keep her safe together," I told her.

Helen spun around when I told her where Stephanie was living. "I know you are considered a catch; at least, that's what my mother says. But Stephanie needs a husband, someone who can take care of her long term. How she'll find that without being able to hear him talk is beyond me, but I can guarantee you that she won't find a husband while she's in your apartment. You may think you're helping her, but she won't be young forever."

Shit, what was it with marriage in the 'Burg? "Mrs. Plum, your daughter and I had begun to see each other prior to her accident. I feel very strongly for her, and while I can't guarantee what the future will bring, I can tell you that I'm not going anywhere. I'd say that Stephanie's best chances at finding a husband are in my apartment and nowhere else, because I have no intention of letting her go."

Helen's eyes narrowed, as though she were looking for some weakness, or trying to test out the sincerity of my words. Finally, she put her hand on her hip in a motion I'd seen Stephanie do thousands of times and announced, "She's independent."

"It's one of the things I love most about her. She knows her own mind and doesn't mind speaking it," I countered.

"She gets harebrained ideas and jumps without thinking first," she warned.

"She has great instincts and has learned to follow them to great results most of the time," I said, turning around her complaint.

"She runs when she's scared," she pointed out with a look of near pleading on her face.

"I've made a career of finding people who have tried to run. I'm the best there is, and there's nowhere she can go to hide from me," I replied with more confidence than I really felt.

Then she surprised me by saying, "Her father can be difficult to get along with."

I nearly laughed at that, knowing of all the members of her family she could have picked for that complaint, Stephanie's father was the least of my worries. "I hear he was in the Army, and he loves his daughter. As far as I'm concerned, we have enough in common to build on."

"I always serve dessert at dinner," she said, a hint of a smile forming at the right side of her mouth.

"In moderation, a well made dessert is a wonderful thing." Hell, to prove to everyone how serious I was about Stephanie, I'd gladly eat a little extra sugar once a week. I could always add a mile or two to my workout the next day to make up for it.

"In that case, you'd better call everyone to dinner. The roast is ready, and if it dries out because you were in here talking my ears off, it will be all your fault." That time, I was sure she was smiling, but she turned around to the stove before I could call her on it.

I went out to the den and found Stephanie sitting by her dad's side on the couch, watching the game. There were captions at the bottom of the screen, and I knew without a doubt that Stephanie would never have asked him to turn them on. I guess her dad had already accepted what her mother refused to see and had made his own changes to support his little girl.

I'd always wondered why she continued to put up with the crap she did from her mother and why she endured the crazy antics of her grandmother and the near silence of her father. But in the thirty minutes we'd been in their home, I realized that in their own ways, they loved Stephanie. I hadn't seen it before, but faced with it now, it was undeniable.

Nobody was hugging her or telling her how worried they'd been, but her grandmother was distracting her with stories, I know I smelled pineapple in the kitchen, meaning dessert would be Stephanie's favorite cake, and now, she was watching the game with her dad, subtitles on, to include her in the play by play. It might not be Hallmark, but it was love, just the same.


	7. Simple Gifts

_Janet gets all the credit for the characters below. She created them and I'm just basking in her shadow._

_Jenny (JenRar) I feel like the work you did on this chapter in particular as the beta deserves some kind of award. Thank you for sticking with it until it was right._

**Chapter 7 - Simple Gifts**

I came out of the bedroom after changing from my typical uniform into a suit to visit a client. It was 0900, so Stephanie was just greeting the day by leaning over the bar in the kitchen to eat her sugar enriched cereal and running through more signs on the program Hector had installed on her study laptop. Her legs were spread apart slightly, and she was completely doubled over at the waist so no milk dripped onto the counter, meaning her ass was spread out perfectly in her sexy, butt-hugging jeans. I glanced at my watch, pissed as hell that I had to leave in ten minutes to make the client meeting as scheduled.

If I had more time, there was no way Stephanie would finish her breakfast. Still, ten minutes could be plenty of time if you were determined enough, and I was known for my ability to focus in order to see a job through to completion.

I tossed my jacket over a stool at the bar, and then pressed my body to the backside of hers, bending over that luscious ass and pressing myself into the denim seam between her round globes.

She froze and let out the most enticing moan that served to increase the speed of my blood flow, at least to certain parts of my body.

When she set her spoon down and pushed against me, I decided I'd never liked this client anyway, and if I was a few minutes late, I didn't really give a shit. I moved my hands around to type in the search feature, _Don't__ move_. Two signs popped up, and Stephanie nodded her head that she understood what I wanted.

I unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down, without pulling her panties, too. They were black, and since they were made of lace, I could see her light colored skin shining through at the front. The thin string that ran in the valley of her ass made me stop for a moment, just to take in the temptation that the thin barrier seemed to be offering. I shook my head, knowing Stephanie had a thing against anal sex, and even though I was pretty sure I could get her over that, this wasn't the time for that particular undertaking.

I tapped her right leg as I knelt behind her, and she lifted it enough for me to pull her pants off, before repeating the act on the other side. Her head fell so the top of her curls were resting on her forearms on the bar.

After pulling her gently away from the bar, I moved her legs farther apart, and then used my hands on her neck and shoulder to guide her body over until her hands rested on a bar stool to accommodate the height lost from splitting her legs. I put my hands on the little straps of material holding her panties together on the sides, and then yanked, tearing them from her. She moaned softly and closed her eyes, her hands grasping at the bar stool for support as her body reacted to what I was doing. With the final barrier between us gone, I could easily see from her lusciously tempting ass all the way to her small patch of curls that she kept just to tease me.

I wanted her to watch what I was doing, so I reached up and gently stroked her face, waiting until she had pried her beautiful blue eyes open to see me. When she looked at me questioningly, I pointed to my eyes with my first finger, and then touched that finger to my thumb and opened them, telling her to keep her eyes open. She nodded, so I took that as her understanding what I wanted.

I moved to my knees so I could touch the sensitive bud between her legs with my tongue, keeping the pressure light enough to feel, but not hard enough to get her very far. She made a little sound of frustration, before thrusting her hips back to get her point across. As much as I liked it when Stephanie took control, I wasn't going to allow that this time, so I clamped my hands around her hips to stop her movement and simply blew across her flesh, smiling when goosebumps appeared on her legs.

Figuring she understood that I wanted her to stay still, I let my hands move over her hips to massage the ass that had drawn me over with such urgency. I knew she felt like her backside was too big, but I couldn't disagree with her more. I didn't care that she didn't have big breasts, but I would admit to loving the fact that her ass was round and tight. It begged to be touched and pulled against, and one day, I was going to show her just what else I could do with it.

Thinking about that caused my control to slip a little, and I moved to push a finger into her already wet entrance. Knowing how quickly I could get to her was such a rush. I would have gladly devoted my whole morning to loving her, but I knew I still had to make that meeting, even if I was a little late, so I stopped teasing her and rubbed her clit with my other hand, getting an "oh yes!" as a reward.

Stephanie had begun to talk softer since she lost her hearing. In general conversation, she could still be heard, but you had to pay attention, since her voice lacked the confidence it used to hold. But in bed, she never held back, and if it was possible, I thought she was twice as vocal and nearly twice as loud. It was as though her ears could no longer register the volume she generated, so she didn't have any way to know to hold back. Personally, I was thrilled with this discovery, because she gave me everything I needed to know what buttons to push and how hard to push them. Plus, hearing how carried away she was often got me into such a state, I struggled to hang on. This morning was a prime example of that.

"Ranger, more," she pleaded loudly. "I need you."

I responded by increasing the pressure on her clit, while inserting another finger.

She shook her head no quickly. "No, I need you – all of you."

Who was I to deny my woman something she wanted? I moved quickly to a standing position, unbuckling my belt and nearly ripping the button off my pants to undo them. I barely got them to my thighs, before I was lining up my head at her dripping entrance and thrusting my way inside. I had to stop, although it wasn't just to allow her a chance to stretch around me, which would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. Honestly, I had to grab her hips to keep her from moving so that I didn't blow right off the bat before I'd made sure she was taken care of.

I shut my eyes to block the view I had of her untouched hole and held my breath, hoping that would stop the throbbing at the base of my dick that usually heralded one hell of an orgasm. As soon as I felt like I had some semblance of control, I pulled back and drove into her once more.

Her cries demanding that I not stop told me she was more than okay with my shortened foreplay and hard approach, so I went with it and continued to drive into her faster and harder, until she began to tighten around me and screamed, "Ranger!"

The second I felt her orgasm clamp down on me, my body decided that was the perfect cue to let go as well, so I followed her over, letting her muscles milk the heat from me and slowing down so that I was only moving to prolong the feeling. I bent over her so my chest was on her warm back and parted her hair so I had access to her neck, where I bit down while drawing the skin into my mouth. I knew I was leaving a mark back there, but no one would see it, so I did it without apology. Still, knowing I had left a piece of evidence about what we'd just shared made me smile.

I waited until her hard breathing slowed enough that she let out a contented hum, and then I pulled out slowly, trailing wet kisses down her neck. She stood up when I took a step backward and turned to face me. "You're going to have to change clothes," she all but whispered.

I smiled, pushing her hair back away from her face. "So are you," I said, before leaning over and picking up the ruined undergarment I'd tossed aside.

She took what had been one of Victoria's Secrets and laughed. "I guess I do," she agreed. "But you'd better go first. I think you have somewhere to be, and if I go in there and strip down to get dressed again, you might miss your meeting entirely, instead of just being a little late for it."

I pressed my hands to the sides of her head and lowered my mouth to hers to kiss her, trying to pour how I felt about her into the simple act. It was foolish, I knew that, but without the words, I had to use whatever tools were at my disposal to insure she never doubted how I felt.

When I pulled back, she drew her bottom lip into her mouth and smiled. "Of course, if you're willing to miss that meeting, I'll gladly follow you to the bedroom."

"Tempting," I assured her, before adding, "I wish I could."

"Just so you know, I'll be up here this morning, then I'm working with Zip on five for a few hours at lunch, but then I plan on returning up here after that. We might not be able to do any more now, but there's always tonight," she tempted me once more, before pressing a short kiss to my lips and stepping back to her now soggy cereal.

By the time I got down to the garage, Tank was standing beside the SUV, pulling at his collar and looking at his watch. "You know we're going to be late, right?"

"Not by much," I told him, moving around him to drive.

"Was there an emergency that held you up?" he pushed, asking a question I had no intention of answering directly.

"No, I was just detained," I replied obscurely.

Silence descended for a few beats, before I heard Tank's low laughter beside me. "I'm hoping you can come up with something acceptable to tell the client. But it's going to have to be good to be believable over the damn smile you're sporting. And if I didn't know better, I'd say you smelled like Stephanie. What were you doing to make you smile and smell like a woman?"

That question pretty much ripped the smile off my face, at least for a brief moment, as the idea of my sex life with Stephanie being a topic of discussion. "That's none of your damn business," I informed my oldest friend.

Tank let out a whistle and pushed his luck further. "What happened to the old Ricardo that used to tell me all about his conquests – giving details and even phone numbers from time to time?"

Before I could stop it, a growl came out of my chest. It was such an unexpected sound of possession that I stopped to confirm it had really come from me. I realized Tank was watching me, so I said, "Stephanie isn't a conquest. She's my woman, and if you want to keep your teeth, you'll never refer to her like that again."

He lifted a hand, indicating he understood and would stop. "I'm glad to hear it. As much as I have your back, I've seen you over the years from that position, and I needed to be sure what this was to you. Stephanie's different, and I needed to be sure she wasn't just a temporary distraction or the person you were using to try to scratch an itch."

I was hit with the desire to stop the car and pound my fist into the side of his shiny head for referring to Steph as just an itch. But at the same time, there was something in me that was pleased to know he was watching over her just as diligently as he'd watched over me for years.

In the end, I told him, "This is it for me, man. She's it for me. No wondering eyes, no need to move on; she's everything I wanted, but never thought I'd have."

"All right, all right," he interrupted me. "There's no reason to turn into some kind of greeting card on me. I just needed to be sure you were treating our girl right. It sounds like you are, so let's get this meeting over with so I can get out of this damn suit. Wearing a tie makes me cranky."

I laughed as I put the SUV in park. "Man, everything makes you cranky; just add this to the list."

He pretended to be surprised at my disclosure, before saying, "I'm hurt, man. You make me sound high maintenance."

I couldn't stop the laughter that boomed from me at his joke. I guess having Stephanie in my life didn't just make me smile more around her, but it carried over to being more laid back with the guys, as well.

He put his hand on my arm to stop me from getting out and said, "Seriously, man, I'm happy for you two. I just needed to check on things, but I can see you're solid with her, and I'm glad you two finally relaxed and gave it a chance."

"All right, enough of the girl talk. We need to win this guy over. He's about to expand and open three new stores, and I want RangeMan to cover all his security needs," I explained, trying to switch the subject before all the talk about feelings began to feel normal between me and Tank. He was a good friend, and the person I trusted most to follow me into battle, but I didn't think I could handle him being the guy I poured my heart out to. At least... not without copious amounts of alcohol involved.

I spent the next two hours trying to point out all the winning points of using RangeMan for store security to Ernesto Rodriguez, who owned a highly successful chain of jewelry stores. We were currently only covering one of his locations, and he had decided to centralize this function and use one company for all his stores, including the new expansion locations.

We had run out of things to discuss, so we stood to make our way to the front, with Mr. Rodriguez walking us out. He pointed to a RangeMan camera, which was mounted at the juncture of the wall and ceiling, so small and colored to blend in with the wall and the display near it so it was hardly detectable. He was making the point that he appreciated the effort we made to keep the security presence lower where people shopped so they didn't feel that someone was watching them.

I let my eyes fall from the camera to the case it was covering and saw a necklace that caught my eye.

Mr. Rodriguez proved himself to be the original salesman of the store when he noticed my reaction and moved to stand behind the display. "Is there something you'd like to see?"

I moved closer to one section of the case and saw there were necklaces that displayed charms of a single hand in various positions. I knew enough now to know they were signing letters of the alphabet. I recognized most of them from the practice I'd done with Stephanie in the evenings, but a few seemed to be something besides the letters alone.

"Are these sign language?" I asked, pointing to the collection.

"Yes, they are," he answered, unlocking the case and pulling out a sleeve of the necklaces. "Do you know someone who signs?" he asked, allowing me to look at them.

I was silent as I wondered if this was something Stephanie would like. "What does this mean?" I asked, pointing to one that had the thumb, index, and little finger up, with the third and forth fingers folded down. In the center of the palm was a heart made of an inset ruby.

He lifted the one I was pointing to and placed it on a stand lined with black velvet, setting off the beauty of the simple design. "It means I love you," he explained, taking a sharp tipped metal pointer to guide me through the description. "It is the combination of the three letters I, L, and Y in one hand position. Think of it as short hand for the hearing impaired."

I touched the heart in the palm of the hand and knew I had to have it. "Can you put this in a gift box?" I asked, reaching for my wallet.

"May I ask who this is for?" he pushed once more.

I looked at him, weighing the risk of admitting the woman I loved couldn't hear. Just being associated with me put her at risk, but to allow the fact that she would be easy to sneak up on to become public knowledge as well was almost putting a bull's-eye on her head. Still, the 'Burg had no secrets, so it was only a matter of time until the streets knew about it anyway. I finally decided to just level with the man I was asking to trust me with his business.

"It's for the woman I love."

I didn't have to turn my head to see the shock register on Tank's face. I didn't know if it was the fact that I'd admitted anything to the jeweler, or if it was how strongly I stated how I felt.

Before I could turn to raise an eyebrow in question, Mr. Rodriguez said, "Has she always signed?"

"No, she's having to learn because of an injury that's taken away her hearing," I admitted, watching him closely for any sign that he was judging me or Stephanie.

Instead, he reached below the cabinet and pulled out a brochure. "This is from the company that makes the charms and shows their full selection." Then he pulled a small card from the drawer behind him and showed it to me. It was a detailed description of the necklace I had selected, included its meaning.

"My wife lost her hearing slowly through her childhood. There are times when it's a challenge, but I don't think it's any more of a test of a relationship than any other non-changing trait. She can't hear, but she can do everything else – in many ways, more than most other women I know, so it's never bothered us. I know it must be a shock, but if you really love her, you will adjust quickly so that you hardly notice the lack of hearing."

As he spoke, he worked to secure it in a long black box. Then he put a red ribbon around the box and tied it, before slipping it in a small bag and setting it on the counter. I knew Stephanie didn't wear a lot of jewelry and didn't like big gaudy things, but I hoped that in being able to understand the sentiment, she would accept it for what it was – a public statement of my love for her.

We were only a quarter of a mile from Haywood when Tank spoke up. "She'll like that necklace."

I nodded, but didn't say anything in response.

"I'll let the guys know they can relax about watching for signs that you might need a gentle reminder on the mats of how to treat our girl," he said, apparently approving of how I'd acted with Mr. Rodriguez. "I always knew you had it in you; I just wondered if you'd let it out this easy."

There were a dozen responses flying through my mind at his comment. Finally, I decided to joke a little and told him, "Man, I've got Cuban blood in me. Did you really think I didn't know how to love a woman? It's genetic! Now that I've stepped up, she'll always be well loved."

Tank laughed at my response. "Damn, boss, I thought Don Juan was Spanish."

I decided a fist to the bicep was a better response than anything else I could say, but added to it anyway. "Don Juan was Spanish, so he loved as many women as he could. I'm Cuban, so I love only one woman, but I do it with so great a passion, she will never need another man."

Tank found that answer just as humorous as my first one. "Shit, she better not need another man. In ten days, you have changed to the point that I hardly recognize you. I'm not sure what would happen if she weren't here."

That cut closer to the truth than I cared to admit, so I shrugged it off as we made our way to the elevator.

While we were riding up, he asked, "How's the leg?"

"Better." I gave him all I wanted to in that response. The truth was, it was much better, and according to Bobby, it was healing exceedingly well, especially considering how bad it had been with the infection compounding the injury. But it was still sore, and it was only because of years of experience handling pain that I was able to walk without limping now.

"You'd tell me if I needed to cover something, right?" he asked, following up on my less than helpful answer.

"It's under control." I hoped that would shut him down once and for all about my injury.

"Because we're riding the elevator, not taking the stairs like normal," he pointed out, proving I wasn't as well off as I was pretending to be.

"Damn, man," I bit out, trying to act irritated. "First the talk about feelings in the truck, and now you're playing the part of Nurse Tank."

He smiled at my response and nodded, as though accepting the fact that he wasn't going to get any more from me.

I decided to press it a little further when the doors opened and told him, "I thought I left my woman upstairs, but from the sound of your griping, you seem to think that title belongs to you. It figures... I'm finally ready to settle down, and I'm stuck with the ugliest woman at RangeMan riding my ass."

Tank returned with a fist to my upper arm and shook his head while walking away to his office.

I heard some laughter coming from the break room, but chose to ignore it, knowing the guys would break up and get to work as soon as they realized I was back in the office.

I'd barely sat down at my desk when Zip knocked on my open door.

I lifted my chin as a hello and come in combination, and he took a few steps forward, but didn't sit down. Tank could learn a few things from Zip here, not forcing himself or his opinions on anybody.

"You should pull up the feed on the break room," he advised, blowing my theory about him not forcing his ideas on anyone out of the water.

I sat down and logged in, and while my computer brought up the program, I asked, "Am I looking for something in particular?"

"Stephanie came down early, and we worked a little more together before the guys started coming in the break room for lunch. Of course, everyone came over to talk to her, and she managed to keep up with most of them. But in the process, she gained a whole lot of confidence. For the last half hour, she's been shooting the shit with whoever's in there. She misses a little, but she's gotten over the embarrassment of asking people to either repeat themselves or write it down. I thought you might like to see it before it breaks up," he said, and then turned around to leave.

I called out to him before he got to the door. "Thanks for this."

He turned his head, but didn't completely face me. "De Nada, I did it for her. She's done so much for us, it was the least I could do. Besides, I've used this skill to gather intel that's brought about all kinds of death and destruction, so it's nice to finally use it for something good."

I knew what he meant, so I let him leave when he started walking this time.

When the image from the break room came up, I zoomed in and brought up the sound, as well, so I could see what was going on. Stephanie was sitting at one of the round tables with six of the guys sitting around her, their chairs turned so she could see their faces. They were talking, and she would occasionally respond back, but the look on her face made it clear that she was getting whatever they were discussing. She'd done it. She had learned how to read lips and broken through the wall that a lack of hearing might have presented.

I couldn't have been more proud. And as I watched her, I realized my pride in what she was overcoming was making me think of her possessively, which, or course, made me think of all the ways I wanted to possess her yet.

Stephanie laughed at a joke someone made, and from the moment her face lit up the black and white feed on my monitor, I knew I couldn't stay away. I picked up the bag from the jewelry store and walked into the break room to interrupt the party so I could steel her away for my own.

As the guys filed out, pretending to complain, I made my way to Stephanie, glad to see she was still smiling and not upset about me ruining her fun.

"Welcome back," she said as I pulled her into my arms.

I kissed her neck up to her jaw, and then pulled back to ask, "Are you still free to go upstairs?"

Both her eyebrows rose, although I wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't just raise one, or because she was genuinely shocked. It didn't take her long to recover and say, "That depends. My cereal was ruined this morning, and I'm not sure I want to go back upstairs with you if you continue to trash my food."

I could see her eyes sparkling, obviously enjoying taunting me. I decided to play just a little in return and showed her the bag from the jewelry store, before taking a small step away from her. "It's hours away from dinner, but if you don't want to come upstairs with me, I can just take this and get rid of it."

I'd barely turned to walk away, when she flung herself at my back to try and stop me. I was going to pull her up piggy back style and steal her away upstairs, but the strain on my leg was a little more than I wanted to take at the moment, so I handed her the bag instead and said, "Mercy."

She grinned up at me, before looking into the jewelry store bag to see the long velvet box inside. Then she took my hand in hers and pulled me to the elevator, obviously okay with my suggestion to relocate. I could feel her practically bouncing beside me, no doubt still riding the high of being around the guys and being able to carry on a conversation.

In that moment, I realized Tank had been partially right earlier. It wasn't that I had completely changed over the last ten days. It was more that I had been completely freed by giving up the fight of staying away from Stephanie and giving into the joy of loving her freely and completely. Her joy was my own – just as her pleasure was mine.

That last thought might have been one too many, because now I had no desire to see her reaction to the gift I'd brought for her. I wanted to test just how far her pleasure could take me. And since my schedule was free for the rest of the day, I had plenty of time to test it out.


	8. Moving On

_The characters below are all the creation of JE which I am shamelessly using for my own amusement._

_Jenny (JenRar) you are simply amazing as the beta on this story. Thank you for working tirelessly to clean up my writing and for not complaining about the steady stream of chapters I send your way._

**Chapter 8 – Moving On**

I loved waking Stephanie up in the morning. I'd already done my work out and showered, but before I got dressed, it was always tempting to climb back in bed to feel her bare skin against mine one more time before she got up.

I'd given her the necklace from Rodriguez's Jewelers yesterday afternoon, and she'd cried the moment she saw what it was. I'd put it on her when she'd asked, and then held her until she'd pulled back, attempting to tell me how much it meant to her. It came out as more a strung together series of phrases that didn't make much sense verbally, but I'd understood the message she was trying to get across, and once she'd given up telling me and had begun showing me, there were definitely no miscommunications.

Something about me not only telling her I loved her, but giving her a necklace that proclaimed it for anyone to see, had hooked a passion in her I'd never seen. I'd always thought of myself as having a higher than normal sex drive, but yesterday afternoon, last evening, during the night, and once just before the sun began to rise, she not only met my drive, but may have exceeded it.

She did warn me not to think that showering her with gifts was always going to mean I'd be having sex, but that this one was special and needed to be celebrated as such. I wasn't going to disagree with her, even though my legs felt like jello on the treadmill this morning and I had struggled to keep my arms up on the bag. I eventually gave up and cut my gym time short by ten minutes, figuring I'd gotten enough of a cardio workout during the night to more than make up for it.

As soon as my arms went around her waist, Stephanie leaned back into my body. I knew she wasn't awake, so to think of how she sought me out, even in her sleep, was a compliment that went to my head.

I was tempted to stay in bed with her longer, but I needed to catch up on a few things in the office, so as much as I hated it, I placed a few kisses on her shoulder and forced myself to let her go.

I dressed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her, and then it hit me. I could turn up music on the stereo and shadowbox to it, and it wouldn't disturb her. One of the reasons I used to say I didn't want anyone living in my space regularly was that it got in the way of my routines. I didn't want to have to worry about my alarm waking them, or my strange schedule causing them to complain, but that was definitely not an issue with Stephanie.

I was lost in that strange silver lining when I heard Stephanie's voice, still rough from sleep and sexy as hell. "What has you smiling so early in the morning?"

There were some days when I missed the time in my life when I just shot from the hip without caring how the answer was perceived. But at the moment, I wished I could come up with a better answer than the truth, because I didn't want to hurt Stephanie by sounding as though I were making fun of her injury.

The longer I went without answering, the more awake she became. When she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness, I knew I'd waited too long. Knowing how much she hated being lied to, I just decided to lay it out there and hope I didn't hurt her too much.

"I was smiling because I realized I didn't need to keep trying to be quiet, because any noise I made wasn't going to wake you up. I used to hate having to sneak around in my own space. I know it sounds cruel, but I was seeing it as making the best of a bad situation and it made me smile." I watched her carefully and knew she hadn't caught every word, but waited for her to either ask me to say it again or guess at what I'd said.

Finally, she ventured to say, "You were amused that you don't have to be quiet up here because I won't be able to hear you anyway?"

"I wasn't laughing at you; it was more of trying to find something good to say about a difficult situation," I stated, hoping the strength of my feelings on this point came through.

She blinked a few times, and then smiled. "I guess it's in line with me laughing about the fact that I don't have to listen to you tell me to stop eating my favorite foods."

"Something like that," I agreed, thankful that it seemed she was taking it the way I intended her to.

Her take on my explanation must have satisfied her, as she relaxed back down on the pillows, not bothering to keep her hands on the sheet to hold it in place as she moved. I couldn't look away as she lay there, oblivious to how beautiful she was. I had no idea how I'd managed to keep her out of my life as long as I did. Seeing her heavily lidded eyes and pale skin against my dark sheets, I was struck by how sexy she was my bed and how perfectly she fit into my life.

She turned her face to better see me and asked, "Do you have much on your plate today?"

"I've got a few meetings with clients, but I also need to spend a little time on Stark," I told her, no longer surprised by how easy it was to share myself with her.

"Stark?" she asked, sounding a little worried.

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed to explain, trying to keep my speed slow enough that she could figure out what I was saying. "I haven't been there since my mission, and in order to keep my contacts and my reputation, I have to put in an appearance so they don't forget what I'm capable of."

There was a long enough pause that I was about to grab a tablet to write it out to be sure she understood.

Before I got up, she asked, "How do you show them what you're capable of?"

I couldn't stop myself from grinning. "I've got a skip that should be there this afternoon, and I'm going to pick him up. Loudly."

She absorbed that for a few seconds, before pushing for more. "And by loudly, you mean, what?"

I loved her mind, even when it was turned against me. "I mean, it should be an easy in and out, but I'm going to kick down his door when I know he's sleeping during the day, and I'm going to haul him out where his neighbors and fellow gang members will see it, so they don't forget that I am capable of doing the exact same thing to any of them if necessary."

I wondered what point she was going to question next, but she surprised me by sitting up and saying, "So you'll be in full SWAT Ranger mode today?"

I laughed at her names for the different personas I played in order to get the job done. "Something like that." I pushed a curl behind her ear, more to touch her, than because it needed to be controlled. "How about you?"

"I thought I might swing by Vinnie's near lunch time and see if Lula wants to grab something to eat. I haven't been over there since my accident, and I miss them."

And just like that, I went from relaxed in the intimacy of casually discussing our days as only two people who accept and love each other can do, to slightly panicked that she was going out on her own and I had no valid reason to assign a guard to her. She wasn't in any danger that we knew of. I had been encouraging her to get out, so she was only doing what I'd suggested, and she was perfectly capable of driving herself to Vinnie's and lunch. But the idea of her being away from these walls with no one watching out for her was tightening my gut in a way that could lead to an ulcer if I couldn't get a handle on it now.

I had to let her do this, for both our sakes. I had to get used to giving her the space she wanted, and she needed the independence to reclaim her life and prove to herself she was capable of doing this. I decided to split the difference and said, "Why don't you take the Cayenne? That way if you two decide to turn lunch into shopping, you'll have room for whatever you buy?"

She got a dreamy look on her face, as though she hadn't even considered shopping, which only made me want to kick my own ass. If I thought I'd been panicked about her sitting in a crowded restaurant and eating, it was nothing compared to how I felt now that I'd basically sent her into an even more unpredictable situation by suggesting the mall.

At least she would take the vehicle I'd suggested. I knew Lula wouldn't agree to ride in Stephanie's, and I didn't have any tracker's on Lula's Firebird – an oversight I was going to have Hector correct before lunch was over.

I was busy planning out how to have Hector plant a tracker on Lula's car and missed Stephanie's movement to close the distance between us and kiss me. I knew if I didn't pull back, I would end up missing my first appointment, but trying to make myself end a kiss with Stephanie was like asking a heroin addict to remove the loaded needle from their vein. Sure, it was physically possible, but when did you ever hear of that happening?

Eventually, Stephanie proved her own strength by pulling back and smiling at me. "Thank you," she whispered, completely confusing me.

"For the kiss?" I dumbly mumbled. "No need to thank me; you took it."

She grinned at my lame joke and said, "For trusting me and not fighting me for wanting to go out on my own. I feel like it's time, and the longer I wait, the harder it will be to do it. I feel like with Lula there to watch my back, I'll be okay. Plus, despite all her strange ways, I miss her and think it would be great to see her again and get out for a while."

I kissed her forehead, intentionally avoiding her lips to insure I didn't take it any further. I pulled back and waited for her eyes to open and focus, before saying, "Have a good time, Babe, and if you buy anything sexy, I'm going to expect a private viewing."

Then I used every amount of strength I had to get off the bed and walk out to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

I endured several hours of meetings and office work, only checking Stephanie's trackers three times during the morning. The first two times, they were still in the building, but half an hour ago, she was on the move, heading to the bonds office. I picked up my cell phone and typed in a text to her, asking if she would mind checking to see if Connie had any files for RangeMan. It was a contrived excuse to check in with her, but I figured it was valid enough, she wouldn't question it, since we had asked her to play the role of delivery person from time to time.

It took a while, but when her trackers stopped moving, I got a reply.

_No__problem. I'll__ bring them to you when I get back_.

I smiled at the fact that she texted like she talked. When Julie sent the occasional text, it tended to be so abbreviated and short that I practically needed Lester's help as the code breaker in residence. But with Stephanie, this was her way of talking now, and she didn't like to speak in shortened ways, so it shouldn't surprise me that she didn't text in condensed form, either.

By 1530 hours, I knew I had to get the hell out of the building. I was in danger of turning into a stalker if I kept checking up on her, and it was late enough that the punk on the docket for a rude awakening by RangeMan should be asleep and waiting.

I stood up, stretched my neck, and then suited up for the part I needed to play. I had twice my usual firepower, but since this was the first look a lot of people on that side of town had gotten of me in a couple of months, I needed to be sure I came back looking larger than life and capable of bringing their worst nightmares to reality.

As soon as I walked into Tank's office, he looked up and grinned. "Hell, yeah. I was getting tired of doing all this damn paperwork you keep pawning off on me. I could use a little diversion."

He followed my lead and armed himself in a similar manner, with neither of us grabbing a jacket to cover the bulk of the visible weapons. There was a time to imply the possibility of violence, but this wasn't it. Right now, I wanted to exude enough hostility that people would part as Tank and I walked down the street.

We intentionally parked six blocks from the building where our skip was asleep. It was all part of an act to be seen by as many people as possible, looking tougher than they remembered, so they didn't forget why they feared RangeMan – and me in particular.

I put on my mirrored glasses to hide the amusement I felt when punks whose pants were in danger of falling down started moving quickly to get out of our way. We never had to slow our pace or move to let anyone pass. It was like watching frightened animals leap as we moved along in a predatory way.

Tank's face was wearing his usual mask, but I could tell the big guy was having a good time, too. We didn't put on a show like this every time we picked up skips on Stark, but every so often, it was helpful to send a message, and Tank loved being able to puff up and be as big as possible, without having to worry about putting people on edge because of his size. I didn't really need his backup, but I was glad to include him, simply because I knew he got such a kick out of this kind of thing. And who says guys don't know how to support each other. We weren't wearing friendship bracelets, but he got the point just the same.

We moved up the stairs, and I did a quick countdown from three, before Tank kicked in the door, literally splintering it from the hinges and making more noise than any cheap wooden door I'd ever heard before. Then I realized this kid had tried Stephanie's old security system and had set up pots and pans against the door to warn him if someone tried to get in. I knew he was probably set up to run out a window and hoped we could get to him before that happened. My leg was much better, but I wasn't sure about taking three flights of stairs on a rusted fire escape without it forcing the limp I was currently covering up.

Just as I suspected, the skip was trying to raise the window, but before he could get completely out, I reached him and yanked him back in by the oversized hoodie he was wearing. I'd never understood why the kids today felt like it was impressive to wear clothes big enough to fit Tank, when they were roughly Stephanie's size. It was as if they thought they could cover up their laziness and lack of work out ethic by wearing bulky clothes to hide their humorously lacking muscles.

The look on the kid's face was one of pure panic. I had my Glock in his face and lowered my voice to a growl to tell him, "You missed your court date, and I had to come all the way down here to remind you. I never forget a face, so if I hear of you getting in more trouble, I won't be so gentle the next time we meet."

Then I flipped him with one hand, and Tank put the cuffs on his wrists behind his back before I pulled him to his feet and informed him he was going to walk out of there nicely, or I was going to make sure he never walked anywhere ever again.

We took our time parading the kid back to the waiting SUV and had him dropped off at the cop shop ten minutes later. With our receipt in hand, we were on our way back to the truck, when a familiar voice called out, "Manoso! Wait up!"

Tank and I both spun around to see Morelli running over to us, looking a little less trim than I remembered from when I'd left. The buttons of his shirt were pulled tighter across his stomach, making me wonder what was going on. He'd eaten the same diet as Stephanie for years and always managed to keep his waistline in tact. I forced my eyes back up to his and raised an eyebrow in question.

"How's Stephanie?" he asked, not obtrusively, merely showing his concern for an old friend.

As much as I wanted to hate the man, I simply couldn't. I had the one thing he'd always said he wanted, and despite that fact, he was proving himself to be a real man and stepping up to show his concern for the girl he couldn't hold onto.

"Good. She's adjusting," I replied, not sure what else to tell him.

"I, ah…I wanted to call and talk to her, but I know she can't…well, hear me, so I haven't, but I wanted to…to let her know I was thinking about her," he said, stumbling over his words, but I got the gist of what he was saying anyway.

"I'll let her know," I assured him, putting my glasses on again to keep him from seeing the annoyance in my eyes. Something about him thinking about my woman wasn't sending me warm, fuzzy feelings.

"How's your wife?" I asked, trying to direct his attention where it belonged.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, before settling his hand over his rounder stomach. "She's good. She's an amazing cook and always has something new for me to taste. My family really likes her, and she'll make a great mom, too." It was almost like he was listing the features of a new car, instead of describing the woman he loved.

I raised an eyebrow and interrupted him, "Great mom... Are congratulations in order?"

He looked up quickly. "No, not yet, but we're trying, so I assume sometime soon."

"Good luck," I replied, hoping it sounded more sincere to his ears than it did to mine.

"Yeah." He looked down again and kicked his boot against some loose rocks in the parking lot. "Somehow, I thought trying to have kids would mean having more sex, but apparently, it means living by a calendar and waiting for the perfect moment." Then, as though he realized what he was admitting to, he quickly covered it up with, "But it will be all worth it to have a baby."

"Of course," I said to let him off the hook. I nodded at him, not really comfortable with any more of this conversation.

As I turned to walk away, he called out, "Let Stephanie know I was thinking about her."

"I'll tell her everything you said," I told him, before walking off quickly and leaving him to wonder if that included his complaint that he basically felt that marriage had demoted him to a stud horse in waiting.

When we got to the truck, Tank was the first to speak up. "Was it just me, or did it look like now that he's married, Morelli is really letting himself go?"

I couldn't hold the laugh back, since we were safely away from the parking lot. "At this rate, he's going to pack on more than the traditional ten pounds for the honeymoon, and he'll be at twenty before the holidays. Hell, if she gets pregnant soon, he may pack on the pounds right along with his wife."

"You don't think he's wishing he'd tried to stay with Stephanie, do you?" Tank asked, basically verbalizing the thought I was trying to ignore.

"I think it doesn't matter what he wishes. He's married now, and I'm not letting her go," I explained, feeling better as soon as I said the words out loud.

"You going to tell Stephanie about what he said?" Tank wondered.

I laughed again, still not used to the feeling of being so laid back since Stephanie and I had gotten together. "Yeah, I'm going to tell her every single word."

The thought that Morelli had gotten what he'd tried to push onto Steph for so long and was apparently finding it wasn't all he'd thought it would be cracked both of us up.

"So, I couldn't help but notice Stephanie went to Vinnie's today," Tank commented, trying to sound casual, but it was hard for a voice that deep to really pull it off.

"Yeah, she wanted to see the girls and take Lula to lunch and maybe to the mall afterwards," I replied, hoping it would save us both some time of the usual back and forth of him pushing me until my short answers eventually gave him what he was after.

"Does that mean she's ready to spend more time in the office?" he followed up, sounding hopeful.

"I'm not pushing it. Whatever she wants is fine with me, but I hope so," I told him.

"The guys loved having her in the break room the other day," he admitted. "I saw a bunch of them looking around for a glimpse of her this morning, too."

I laughed at that. For the observant, detail-oriented men they all claimed to be, if any of them were really foolish enough to look for her in the morning, they needed some additional training in picking up on clues.

I realized he was looking in my direction, waiting on some kind of response. "She was keeping herself upstairs until she figured out how to function without her hearing. Once she realized she can pick up on a great deal reading lips, she relaxed. I'm guessing she'll start coming downstairs more often."

"That's good," he answered a little too eagerly, before trying to play it off and adding, "I mean, the guys will like that, and it will keep them from asking me."

"Don't worry, I'll let her know you were asking about her, too," I assured him, before getting out at Haywood.

He tried to hit my shoulder, but the big guy didn't have my speed, and I easily evaded him. Seeing that he wasn't going to get me, he gave up and pleaded, "When you tell her, just try not to make me come off as pitiful as the cop, all right?"

I bumped fists with him and replied, "No worries there, man."

Honestly, why my family was under the impression that I didn't have a soft side was beyond me.

I went back to my office and took off the excess firepower to secure them in my safe and wondered how Stephanie would feel about meeting my family. I knew she'd met some of them at the hospital after the Scrog incident. And she'd run into my sister at least once since then, because my family was full of questions after their brief conversation. I'd been getting pressure from every possible side to bring her by and let the family officially thank her for the role she'd played in rescuing Julie. I'd always refused, saying we were only friends and there was no reason for her to be exposed to my family based on just that.

But now that we were more to each other, I began to wish she knew my family, too. It's not that I wanted her exposed to their interrogation and questioning, but I wanted her to feel like she was a part of every facet of my life. And since I knew how important her family was to her, I figured she might wonder about mine, as well.

With that thought, I instinctively picked up the phone and dialed a number I'd had memorized for years.

"Papi," I said when my father answered.

"Carlos, my son, how are you?" he replied, obviously glad to hear from me.

"I'm good," I answered, turning the question on him in return.

"I'm well enough to know you didn't call to chat about my health. So what can I do for you?" I always appreciated my father's straight to the facts approach.

"You've heard me speak of Stephanie Plum?" I began wondering if this were a mistake.

"Si, your Estephania is a mystery to us all, especially since you keep her so well hidden from us," he replied.

Now that I'd begun the conversation, I was at a bit of a loss about how to continue it. I decided to just be a man and jump in, so I said, "Since I returned from my last mission, she and I have, well, become more to each other than just the friends we had been."

"This is wonderful news," he quickly assured me. "Your mother and sisters will be thrilled."

That's what I was worried about. This conversation was why I didn't like to leap without considering all the possible things that could go wrong first. "I was wondering if I could bring her by, maybe this weekend, to meet you and Mama."

"Si, si, bring her anytime. I'll call your sisters, and they can work with your mother to plan a big feast in honor of you finally bringing her to meet us." He took my question and ran in the exactly opposite direction than I wanted him to.

"Papi," I interrupted. "Stephanie had an accident. Her ears were injured, and she's lost her hearing."

"Oh, Carlos." His entire tone shifted, and I suddenly understood what Stephanie meant about not wanting people's pity because of this.

"No, she can't hear, but in every other way, she's fine, and we're learning to work around it," I assured him, before adding, "But because she is still adjusting to not being able to hear, it is easier if she's not thrown into crowds, where lots of people are trying to talk to her. I was hoping at least this first time, it could be just you and Mama."

"Of course," he conceded. "I'll explain everything to your mother, and we will have a nice dinner, just the five of us."

"Five?" I questioned, trying to figure out who besides them would be there.

"You don't really expect me to keep this from Abuela Rosa do you?" he questioned me, proving himself to be a very wise man.

I hadn't thought about my grandmother, but now that he mentioned it, if I intentionally excluded her, she would have shown up anyway and been furious.

"No, of course not," I lied, glad that he'd kept me from making such a mistake.

We talked for a little while longer about the specifics of Stephanie's injuries and how much progress she'd made so far in being able to communicate. By the end, I knew they would be as accommodating as possible to make it a pleasant introduction to my family.

Just as we began to run out of conversation, I felt the need to admit something to him. "Papi, do you remember how I used to ask you why you did so much with Mama after working all day?"

"Si," he answered, laughing at my question. "You used to ask why I washed dishes or worked in the garden, doing what you considered to be the chores of a woman."

I was embarrassed at my stupidity now. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for questioning you like that."

"Ah," he softly replied. "An apology spoken from experience, I presume?"

"You could say that," I agreed. "It's just that I understand now in a way I never could before."

"We will see you on Saturday, Carlos," he told me, before hanging up.

I stared at my phone for a moment, realizing I now had a valid reason for why I never said goodbye on the phone. It figures as soon as I had a justification that Stephanie might accept for hanging up at the end of a conversation, I longer needed to explain myself on that front to her.

I pulled up her trackers once more and smiled when they showed her in the building. I glanced at my watch and saw it was nearly 1800 hours, which was plenty late enough to call it a day and join her upstairs.

As I rode the elevator up to seven with another grin on my face, I couldn't help to think back over my father's words that my apology was born out of experience. My parents had been married for over forty years. I found myself mirroring Abuela Rosa's gesture of crossing herself as I hoped that I would be lucky enough to share that same experience.


	9. Unexpected Bumps in the Road

_I am shameless using JE's creation below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you once again for your work as the beta on this chapter. You are making this story so much more fun. _

**Chapter 9 – Unexpected Bumps in the Road**

I opened up the apartment and was instantly hit with two things. One, Ella had already dropped of dinner, and it smelled of Italian flavors with marinara and garlic, assaulting my nose the second I walked across the threshold. Typically, Ella only made heavy Italian food when Stephanie needed a little comfort, so I was on edge. This led me to my second discovery; there was the soft sound of crying coming from the bedroom.

I think it goes without saying that no man likes to know his woman is crying, and I was no exception to this rule. But I don't object for the typical reasons. Most guys panic when they see a woman crying because they're uncomfortable with any kind of feelings, and the abundance of emotions so strong that someone is reduced to weeping is foreign enough, they have no clue how to react.

While I don't like seeing Stephanie upset, it doesn't unnerve me to the point that I'm unsure of how to react. Comforting her is as natural to me as breathing, and when I sense that she is in pain, my body responds as much as my heart does to pull her to me and hold her close so that despite whatever has happened, she will know she isn't alone.

But something in the sound of her crying now put me on edge. She left this morning happy to be getting out, ready to have fun with her friends, trying to assert some independence. If her fun day was ruined because of some insensitive sales person, or a run-in with some jerk from the 'Burg, then I was going to have a hard time staying on seven tonight, instead of exacting a little justice on behalf of the tears soaking her pillow.

I slipped off my boots and placed my keys in the dish on the table by the door. I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, before checking the container being kept warm in the oven to confirm that it was chicken parmesan with lots of sauce and cheese. Steph would be in heaven eating her way through that.

I stepped into the bedroom, and my chest tightened. Her pain was so thick in the room, I could swear I felt it hitting me, as well. Stephanie was lying on her stomach with her head on her pillow, holding my pillow in her arms, as though trying to make it a substitute for me.

I walked over to her side of the bed and brushed away her hair, which was covering her face and absorbing the tears as they fell. Her eyes shot open, and when they focused on me, she jumped up and flung herself into my arms. I cradled her to me, rubbing my hands on her back in what I hoped were soothing circles, just letting her cry out whatever she had bottled up inside her.

Time passed slowly, as it always does when someone you love is suffering. I found myself talking to her in Spanish as I had done for so long, it was now an ingrained habit, and then stopped abruptly when I realized not only did she not understand Spanish, but she couldn't hear me at all, which made my words useless.

Stephanie pulled back and swiped at her eyes, as though drying her face would somehow make the fresh tears stop falling. "Why did you stop talking?"

I turned my head slightly, trying to understand what she meant. "You could hear me?"

She shook her head no. "I could feel the vibration in your chest and liked the way it felt. It reminded me of all the times you would speak to me in Spanish. I couldn't understand you, but I loved the way it sounded."

"You can feel it when I talk?" I knew my questions were making me sound like an idiot, but I needed to understand what she was saying.

"If I'm really close, like we just were, then I can feel it when you breathe, and when you hum or talk. It rumbles against my skin, and I like it. It's…comforting – familiar," she tried to explain, and while I understood her in principle, I had a feeling it was more significant to her than she was able to communicate.

I touched her face – I'd always felt the need to be in contact with her, but even more so since her injury – and asked, "Can you tell me why you're upset?"

She nodded and took a deep breath, pulling herself together in a way that made me proud. There was always a place here for her to safely fall apart when she needed to, but her strength to not wallow in things like this and to harness some hidden pool of strength amazed me.

"I had a great time at the bonds office with the girls. Lula got the hang of talking slow enough that I could read her lips most of the time, and she didn't mind writing down whatever I still couldn't get. She's picked up a few new words that threw me, but after half an hour, we were doing well. Connie couldn't leave, since Vinnie wasn't there, so Lula and I went to the mall for lunch to eat in the food court, and then do some shopping."

So far, it sounded like the perfect day for her, which worried me even more about what must have happened to take her from what she'd just described to the way I'd found her just moments ago.

"Nobody messed with us while we were eating, even though we recognized a few people, and when we were done, we headed to Macy's. We both found some things we liked, and while we were in line to check out, Joyce Barnhardt and her cousin Louise approached us. Louise was a year older than me in school, and she is to Mary Lou what Joyce is to me."

I had no idea what that meant, so I squeezed Stephanie's wrist before she moved on to let her know she'd lost me.

"Lenny and Mary Lou broke up briefly at the beginning of our junior year in high school. They had a fight like everybody does at some point, and just before a home football game, they called it quits. Lenny responded like every seventeen-year-old boy would and started drinking. Mary Lou cried on my shoulder, and then decided that she was being silly; she'd rather fight with him than be miserable without him, so she started asking around and found out he'd gone to the far side of the field, where there was an equipment storage shack. She wanted to surprise him, so she snuck up to the building, and then popped around the corner to see him pushed against the brick by Louise Barnhardt, who was sticking her tongue far enough down his throat to take a strep throat sample."

I couldn't picture Lenny with anyone but Mary Lou. We hadn't spent a lot of time together, but there were some couples that just belonged together, and they were definitely one such example.

"Mary Lou started throwing things at both of them, pegging Louise with some football pads with enough force that the hard edge hit her near the eye and gave her a gash a couple of inches long that she still carries as a scar. And since that day, those two have never been able to stand the sight of each other."

That made sense, but I was still clueless about how she'd gone from seeing a woman she didn't like to crying on the bed.

"Anyway, they came up behind us, but I couldn't hear them, so ignoring them was simple. Unfortunately, Lula heard every word, and when Joyce used the words 'charity case and her oversized sidekick,' Lula snapped. I had to turn around then, and realized Joyce was saying that she knew I couldn't hear and that you and I were together only because you felt sorry for me. She said that you'd keep me around out of duty, but that you'd always have a piece on the side so that you could have fun. Then she said something to Lula that I didn't catch, but it ended with Lula tackling her and security escorting us all out of the mall."

I appreciated Lula coming to Stephanie's defense, but it was obvious that if she'd ignored them like Stephanie had been, this day might have ended much differently.

"I pulled Lula along and told her we'd go to some other stores and to forget about the Barnhardt bitches, but Lula couldn't let it go. Finally, I just gave up and took her back to Vinnie's, but I wasn't ready to come back, so I went to the mall again, figuring since I was alone, Joyce and Louise could say anything they wanted to, and I wouldn't have to listen. I wasn't going to let them take away my chance to shop."

God, her determination and courage was such a turn-on. My hand let go of her wrist and began to move from her knee to the top of thigh, before returning back down her leg. I loved her strength, and seeing how she refused to bend to the desperate actions of another woman impressed me.

"I was having a good time trying on shoes at Macy's, when I started to feel uncomfortable for no apparent reason. I figured it was because I was alone, so I ignored it and pressed on, until a security guard came over and touched my shoulder and told me I was going to have to leave. I asked why, and he said I was creating a disturbance. Joyce and Louise were back and were making a scene. Some people I recognized had their phones out, snapping pictures, and the Barnhardts were hurling insults at my back. I was humiliated."

Without thinking, I wondered aloud, "What kind of person insults another that can't hear it? It's a stunt that kids would pull in junior high."

"Yeah, well, Joyce has always hated me, even back in elementary school, so this is just another example of the exact kind of thing she's always done. I'd thought that when my hearing was gone, I would be immune to this kind of thing, but it seems like I'm even more of a laughingstock. This isn't my fault, but I have to pay for it anyway. It's not fair."

While her words were right, it wasn't fair and it wasn't her fault, I knew this outburst was about more than just being accosted at the mall. She had been stronger than I thought possible through the adjustments to life without her hearing, and because of that, she hadn't really grieved the loss of a major sense. While most of what she was feeling was because of the scene at the mall, some of it was mourning what she had lost in general. Because of that, I also knew that Steph wasn't going anywhere alone again for quite some time. She may not know it, but I'd have someone shadowing her anytime she left the building from now on.

I tried to pull her back to me, but she stiffened, refusing to allow herself to receive the comfort I was offering. "Are you going to keep me around out of pity? I mean, I know you said you loved me before this happened, but we might have fought and broken up over the course of getting to know each other better, but now you might feel stuck with me... Do you feel stuck with me?"

This train was quickly derailing from anger to hysteria, and I had no intention of letting her go down this track. "No!" I yelled the words, needing her to understand the force of what I meant, even if the volume was useless to her ears.

Then I lifted one of her hands and flattened it against my chest, covering it with my fingers. "Listen to me," I commanded solemnly. "I told you forever, and I meant it. I'll be glad to remind you every day for the rest of our lives, but you have to let go of the idea that I'd keep you around out of pity. I keep you around out of love and devotion and because I need you. You need to find a way to hear my voice instead of people like Joyce when you start to have doubts. Feel me now, to know how serious I am... I'm not letting you go, and it's not because you can't hear; it's because I can't make it without you."

She stared at me, and I let her. I didn't offer anymore words, because I didn't think rambling would help at the moment. Instead, I let her search my face and my eyes for whatever clues she needed to know that what I was saying was true. I knew she'd found what she was searching for when her shoulders dropped slightly and the tension melted from her body.

"I'm sorry; I just wasn't prepared for her today. I thought I'd be okay, and now, it's like I've got a target on my back and it's not even safe for me to go shopping. I've never been in a position where I had money to spend and couldn't spend it," she commented.

"Like _Pretty Woman_," I replied, grateful that there were no microphones in my apartment for the guys to hear that Julia Roberts reference.

She grinned at the mention of the movie. "Exactly," she agreed.

I glanced at the clock behind her and saw there were still a couple of hours before the mall closed. "Do you want to go shopping now?" I offered, willing to endure a few hours of her trying on clothes or shoes if it helped to erase the memory of the day. I seriously doubted that Joyce would still be there, but if she did surface, I knew there was no way I'd let her get close enough to Stephanie to upset her again.

"That is the sweetest offer ever," she said, beaming, "but I think twice in one day is enough for me. I'm not willing to swing and risk a third strike."

"It could be a home run, Babe," I teased.

Her eyes instantly changed from a sad dull blue to a deep midnight color, and she replied, "I'd love to hit a home run tonight, Batman, so why don't we have our dinner, and you can show me how you work around the bases?"

She moved off the end of the bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up, while I sat there trying to figure out how we went from being upset over being bullied in the mall to the discussion of foreplay. I could say a lot of things about living with Stephanie, but I would never describe her as predictable.

I was vaguely aware that she'd slipped out of the bathroom and out to the kitchen for dinner, while I was frozen to my spot on the edge of the bed, mulling over the phrase that had passed through my mind – _living with Stephanie_. Right now, I guessed we were still just temporarily staying together. She'd come home from the hospital with me because she couldn't be released to stay alone, but technically, there was no reason I could give for why she had to be here now. Well, no reason except for the fact that if she left, I would follow her, because there was no way I was staying anywhere without her.

With that thought, I walked into the kitchen just in time to hear her moan while licking some cheese from her finger. She smiled at my purposeful approach and intentionally sucked on her finger hard enough to draw in her cheeks slightly. I knew what I wanted to say needed to be thrown out there quickly before the images of what else I wanted to see her suck on overtook my remaining brain cells.

"Move in with me," I blurted out, cringing at how it sounded like a command, which I knew was risky with Stephanie.

"I'm already here," she replied offhandedly, as though not realizing what I was really asking.

"No, I mean officially. I want this to be our apartment, I want the Batcave to be our house, our home. I want you to live with me permanently," I tried to clarify, realizing I still wasn't asking her. I was all but informing her of my will, and I knew it was risky.

She looked at me for a moment, before asking, "Are you serious?"

"You came here from the hospital, but we never clarified it was just because you needed someone to look after you, or how long you would stay. I don't want there to be any confusion about where we stand. I love having you here. This apartment feels like a home to me with you in it. Would you be willing to live with me?" There, I'd finally managed to put a question in there so that she could decide for herself.

She looked uncertain, as though this were a difficult decision. I didn't want to doubt myself, but it suddenly hit me that there was a real chance she might say no. I refused to give into the panic of what I'd do if she refused to live with me, but the longer it took her to answer, the more I felt it rise. Had I misinterpreted what this was between us?

"Would you start to feel trapped if you knew I had nowhere to go if we didn't get along?" she questioned, giving me a little hope.

"No. I don't want either of us to have an escape if things get rough. We won't run away, no matter how hard it is. This would just be making what's already happening official," I countered.

"But we haven't been together that long," she argued. I guess the 'Burg rules of right and wrong were harder to step away from than I'd hoped.

"We've not been together in such a serious way long, but we've been moving toward this day for over three years now," I argued. "By some standards, we've been dragging our feet."

She took a step closer, and I copied her movement to close the gap. "Are you sure? If all my stuff comes over, you're stuck with me. I hate moving, and I don't want to do it more than once." She was trying to be tough and threatening, but it made me laugh anyway.

"I think the correct way to word it is that if you move in, you're stuck with me, because once you get here, I'm not letting you go." I turned it around on her, making her smile again.

She put her hand over my heart as I'd placed it there earlier. "Let's sleep on it, and if you're sure you want me here, I'll go over to my old apartment tomorrow and see if there is anything salvageable."

"I could have the guys do it for you," I offered, willing to do anything to make this happen immediately.

"No, it's my place and my stuff. I want to be the one to sort through it," she asserted, making it clear this wasn't negotiable. I'd gotten the call a couple of days ago that the fire marshal was done with his investigation and had declared the units to be safe for cleaning and repairs, except for a few areas that were roped off. Dillon, her building superintendant, had said they wouldn't be livable for a couple of months as they brought in contractors to knock out the rubble that remained and looked to rebuild. But he did suggest she might have some salvagable items if she were patient enough to sift through the grime.

"Can we do it together?" I offered, wanting to be there when she saw the destruction of her apartment for the first time.

"No, I doubt there is much that can be brought over. I just want to check it out on my own. I promise if there's any heavy lifting involved, I'll call for help," she suggested, letting me know this was where I needed to drop it.

I was still determined to keep a guy shadowing her, but I would inform him to stay hidden unless she called for help. I knew that concession was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her safety, but the longer we were together, the more I knew there was nothing I wouldn't do for her.

I let it drop, having to content myself with the fact that it appeared Stephanie and I were taking our relationship to the next level of living together beginning tomorrow. Somehow, I thought it would be a more difficult decision to make, something I might fight for a long time, but with Stephanie, it was as simple as thinking it one moment and being ready to beg for it the next.

We had an easy dinner and talked through most of it. A tablet and a pen were in every room of the house, courtesy of Ella's thoughtfulness, so if there was anything she couldn't figure out and I couldn't sign, I could write it down so our conversation could continue to flow.

When we stood at the sink to clean up for dinner, I remembered my conversation with my father and knew I needed to tell her now so she'd have a couple of days to prepare for it. I touched her shoulder to get her attention and told her, "I spoke to my father today, and he and my mother have invited us to their house for dinner on Saturday. It will just be them, us, and Abuela Rosa. Would you be willing to come with me?"

She smiled at my question, probably congratulating herself on teaching me to ask, instead of commanding it. Perhaps I should have been insulted at the idea, but I found that if it brought her a little amusement, I couldn't hold it against her.

"What do they know about me?" she asked.

"They've known about you for years, despite my trying to keep you from them. They remembered meeting you at the hospital when I was shot, but there were so many people there and they were focused on my prognosis, so they didn't get to talk to you as they would have liked." I knew I was skirting what she really wanted to know. "Basically, they know we were friends for years and that we've recently become more than that."

"What are they like?" she asked, drying her hands to show she wasn't interested in washing dishes right now.

"They are both hopeless romantics who love that I stand up for what is right in the world, but prefer not to think about exactly what I do to accomplish that. But they are both very excited about meeting you, and this might be our only chance for you to meet them without the craziness of all my siblings, their spouses, and children present to turn it into a zoo." I knew I was over exaggerating, that if I asked, I was sure my parents would host us alone again, but I wanted her to meet everyone so she would know more about me.

"Do they know about my hearing?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"Yes, I told Papi on the phone, and he had lots of questions, wanting to be sure they knew how to make you most comfortable," I explained, hoping she didn't resent being discussed like that.

"I'd like to meet them," she added, still sounding as though she were thinking it through. Then her voice changed a little, and I knew her thoughts were coming out unfiltered. "Crap, what if they don't like me? We move in together one day, and a couple of days later, his parents tell him they don't approve of his choice. That's a horrible position to force Ranger into."

I put my hand on her should to stop her rant. "They'll love you. They already do. Anyone that could inspire me to pick up the phone and call them to see if we could come over has done what they thought was impossible. They will accept you and the two of us together, trust me."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"But if we're going to my parents' house, there is one thing you're going to have to change," I warned her, instantly putting her back on edge.

"What?" Her hands went up to her hair, as though trying to control it, thinking there was something about her appearance that I was going to object to.

I grabbed her hands to let her know I loved the way she looked. "You can't call me Ranger in my parents' house. They gave me a name – a family name – and they wouldn't understand why someone I love doesn't use it."

"But that's how I was introduced to you and what everyone here calls you, so it's all I know," she explained.

I kissed her forehead, and then pulled back so she could see my lips. "The people that I love – those closest to me, like my family – call me Carlos. I think if we are talking about forever, you should consider using that name, as well."

"You want me to call you Carlos?" she asked, sounding shocked.

Every time I went to Newark, I was surrounded by women calling me Carlos, and I answered to it out of conditioning. It was nothing special...just a name. But when I heard it come out of Stephanie's mouth, it took on so much more meaning. My arms tightened around her on reflex, and I had to force my lips to stay away from her so that she could see them as I responded.

"Yes, I want you to call me Carlos. And hearing you say it makes me curious about something."

Her eyes were growing darker as I spoke. "What are you curious about?"

"How it would sound if you screamed it," I told her, giving her what she used to call my wolfish grin.

"I don't scream just for the hell of it," she teased in return. "If you want to hear your name ringing in your ears, you'll have to earn it."

Holy hell, there were few things that an Alpha male like me enjoyed more than a challenge to conquer, and she had thrown down a gauntlet that I couldn't refuse. She might not have her hearing, but her vocal chords worked just fine. And so help me, by the time she went to sleep tonight, I was going to see to it that they were just as exhausted as the rest of her.


	10. Meet the Parents

_All the usual…JE creation…not mine…great deal of envy on my part for that fact._

_Jenny (JenRar) you absolutely rock! Thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story. I don't have words for what it means to me._

**Chapter 10 – Meet the Parents**

I took Stephanie's hand in mine and rested it on my leg. I knew she was nervous about meeting my family, but I had to stop the fidgeting before it drove me nuts. I ran my thumb over her knuckles, intending it to be a reassuring gesture, and heard her let out a long, slow breath.

I stopped at the last stop sign before my parent's street and turned to face her. "They're going to love you. There is no reason to be nervous."

"Do I look okay? Should I have worn different shoes?" she asked in a rare show of her uncertainty.

If there was one thing Stephanie was always confident about, it was the shoes she wore. And the black heels she'd slipped her feet into, which matched the lightly patterned wrap-around skirt that stopped mid-way between her knees and ankles, had made me think that all I had to do was unbutton two small pieces of plastic, and I could unwrap that skirt and have her standing in front of me wearing only those gravity defying shoes.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard to pull myself away from that slippery slope of thought and forced myself to reply, "I love those shoes. In fact, after we get back to Trenton, I'm going to want a private showing of you in _just_ those shoes."

She nodded when I finished speaking, so I turned right and drove the seventy-five feet to my parent's driveway. I watched as she took in the appearance of the ranch house where I'd spent most of my childhood in Newark. There was nothing spectacular about this place; in fact, I'd volunteered to buy my parents something bigger and nicer on several occasions, but they refused to move, saying one day, I'd have a home of my own and realize it was a lot more important than the house that contained it. That had never made sense to me, as it sounded a lot like double speak, but I had a feeling it was important and looked forward to the day when the truth of it hit me.

I turned off the car and looked at Stephanie, who was taking in the house with a more relaxed look on her face. She picked up her bag with her iPad, tablet, and pen in it and said, "It feels strange to be visiting parents and no one is at the door watching us."

I glanced across the front of the house and pointed to the curtains in the living room, giving Stephanie a chance to follow my finger.

She then looked back to me. "Is someone at the window?" Her instincts always impressed me.

"Abuela Rosa," I informed her. "She doesn't move quickly, so she tends to sit in her winged back chair next to the window and pull the curtain back so she doesn't miss anything. I'm sure she knows we're here and is wondering why we haven't gotten out of the car."

Stephanie smiled, before her brow furrowed and she asked, "Why did you bring me here? I mean, why am I meeting your parents now?"

"I want you to know me, and that means understanding where I came from to understand how I became who I am now. I can't tell you everything about my past, but this, I can easily share, so I wanted to share it with you. Plus, you are the most important person in my life, and I wanted my parents to have a chance to know you, too. They've worried about me for years, that I was too closed off and secretive. I think getting to know you will give them a little hope that I might not be alone for the rest of my life." I wanted to be sure she understood how significant this was.

She looked at me for a moment, and I wondered if I'd lost her with such a long speech. "Thank you," she finally said softly, before swallowing and saying, "Thank you," once more, but a little firmer. Something in the explanation had touched her, which pleased me.

She opened her door, and I followed suit, meeting her at the front of the Turbo to take her hand, pulling it up to kiss her knuckles laced between mine. I rang the doorbell and waited until the door swung open.

My father grinned at us. "Carlos!" he nearly shouted, before embracing me. Apparently, I'd let too much time pass between visits, as the enthusiasm of my father's greeting usually grew the longer I was away.

"Papi," I replied, returning his hug and wondering if he'd shrunk since the last time I'd seen him.

"You get bigger every time you come home. Whatever your Tia is feeding you is doing you good. Perhaps she could send some home to me," he joked, feeling the difference in our sizes as well.

I pulled back and smiled at him. "I'm sure she'd be willing to, but do you really want Mama and Tia Ella fighting over whose cooking is better?"

"I don't want to see them fight, but I wouldn't mind a little competition, if I got to eat the weapons of their war," he returned, rubbing his slightly rounded stomach.

"Estephania!" He turned to Stephanie and held his arms out to softly grip her shoulders. "We are so glad to have you in our home. After hearing about you for years, we wondered if Carlos would ever come to his senses and bring you completely into his life." Then he pulled her to him in a tight embrace.

I watched her closely to see if it bothered her. My family was very affectionate, which I knew was a stark contrast to hers, who rarely touched.

When he pulled back, he made eye contact, before saying, "Please come in. My wife is in the kitchen and wants a chance to meet you, as well."

He began to let go of her, but Stephanie took his hand in hers and said, "Thank you for such a warm welcome. I'm very happy to be here."

Papi took her by the hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. I followed along, wanting to give her a chance to learn about my family, but not wanting to get far enough away that they could overwhelm her right off the bat.

As soon as the swinging door to the kitchen opened, my mother spun around and her face lit up. She walked over to me first and patted my cheek with her warm hand. "Carlos, you have been gone too long. A mother needs to see her children to remind her heart they are well."

"I've missed you, too, Mama," I promised her, knowing what she was implying. Then I leaned down and kissed her cheek, receiving a kiss in return.

As soon as I stood up, my father pulled Stephanie toward Mama, who took Steph's hand from my father and patted it between hers. "Welcome to our home, Estephania. We are so glad to have you here. You brought our Carlos home to visit, which warms my heart."

"Thank you for having me," Stephanie replied quietly, a perfect showing of her 'Burg manners.

Then my mother pulled her forward and hugged her tightly, placing a kiss on Stephanie's cheek, before letting her go. "You are such a lovely girl," Mama commented, pulling back. "Come sit with me in the kitchen while I cook, and we can get to know each other."

Stephanie smiled, about to accept, when Papi interrupted. "First, she must meet Abuela Rosa."

Mama pretended to frown, before saying, "My mother will talk non-stop. When you get tired of her ramblings, come back and keep me company. We can talk about Carlos while he is stuck out there listening to his Abuela."

"I'd like that," Stephanie agreed, before looking at me with a smile.

As much as I hated it when my mother tried to tell embarrassing stories from my childhood, I could see the idea made Stephanie happy, so I nodded that it would be all right.

Papi took Stephanie's hand again and led her to the living room, where Abuela Rosa was sitting in her chair, knitting needles in hand, pretending to be focused on her task, despite the fact that I knew she'd been watching us and listening to every word that was spoken.

"Abuela Rosa, this is Carlos' Estephania," he presented her to my grandmother formally.

Stephanie stepped forward and smiled. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Sit, dear," she commanded in a way that only old people whose every wish is obeyed can pull off.

Stephanie sat in the chair next to Abuela Rosa's, and my grandmother set her knitting down to take Stephanie's hand in hers. I knew that was a bad sign. She only set her needles down when she planned on talking for a long time. I sat on the loveseat across from them next to my father and tried to come up with reasons to interrupt so that Stephanie could return to my mother.

Before I could come up with anything, Abuela Rosa started talking. "Carlos is a good man, si?"

My grandmother could speak English, but she often mixed the occasional Spanish word in, concerning me that Stephanie wouldn't be able to read her lips.

Fortunately, she'd become a good guesser and was gaining enough confidence in her skills to wager a guess about what was being said. She looked at me quickly and smiled, before facing my grandmother again to respond, "Yes, he is a very good man."

Abuela Rosa beamed at her response. "He loves you; he has for years. Did you know?"

I'd forgotten how incredibly direct Abuela Rosa was. Stephanie didn't seem the least bit put off, despite my minor attack of nerves over how this was going to play out. If Abuela Rosa was only warming up, when she got to her hard hitting questions, I was going to need a drink.

Stephanie collected her thoughts, before responding, "I think we both loved each other for years and hoped that it would be returned one day."

"Ah!" Abuela Rosa patted her hand again. "He is Cuban. He loves as a Cuban man does."

What in the hell did that mean? It's not like my heritage made me some freak when it came to knowing how to treat a woman.

"How is that different from the way an Italian man loves?" Stephanie asked smoothly, without a single element of challenge or defiance in her voice.

Abuela Rosa smiled. "It's forever," she answered first, and I had to admit I liked that answer. "And it's…con su corazón todo."

Stephanie's confusion was evident on her face. She looked to me for help, so I translated, "It's Spanish for 'with his whole heart'."

"Oh," Steph responded. "I'm sorry, I don't understand Spanish."

Abuela rubbed circles on Stephanie's hand and pressed on. "No matter. You understand him, no?"

"Yes, I understand him," she replied with an air of confidence that made me believe her.

The whole purpose of this visit was to help her better understand me, but I realized that she already _got _me. Somehow, she'd observed and listened and learned enough to know me – better than I might even know myself. And in knowing me, she'd seen something that seemed worthy of loving and holding to herself. I'd never felt as honored as I did in realizing that fact.

"Si, but it is not easy to love a Cuban man. They can be stubborn," she warned, glancing at me and lifting her hand to shake a finger in my direction. "Especially my Carlos."

Stephanie smiled, probably thoroughly enjoying my grandmother getting on me. "I have a tendency to be a little stubborn, too," she admitted in return, taking the focus off of me gracefully.

"Ah, you will need that to stand your ground with him. You cannot let him get away with anything," she instructed, pretending to be firm, but her dark eyes were obviously enjoying this chance to make me uncomfortable.

"I think he could be given the same advice about me," Stephanie replied, enjoying herself, as well.

"Then I am happy for you both. I have heard of you. People talk when they think old ears are not listening, and I've seen him speak of you to his hermano. You are good for him. You give him purpose and make his eyes smile," she droned on.

"I think the same thing could be said of the effect he's had on me," Steph countered once more.

"Ah, this is a good match. You will be happy together," Abuela Rosa predicted.

I held my breath, hoping she wasn't going to tell Stephanie that she had the gift of sensing the future and scare her on her visit here.

"We are," Stephanie assured her. "We are very happy."

I considered her words and felt their truth. We'd been together officially only a matter of weeks, and in that time, we'd been through a great deal, at least in the standard definition of what should happen in a new relationship. But despite what might have destroyed other couples, we had managed to settle into a routine and a comfortable connection that did make me very happy. I'd never imagined or even hoped that was possible for me, but there it was.

"Si,"Abuela Rosa agreed. "And you will bring me the most beautiful nietos."

Stephanie looked at me, and I mouthed the word _grandchildren_ to her. Then I moved to the edge of my seat as her smile faded and she turned back to my grandmother.

"Abuela Rosa, I had an accident a few weeks ago that took away my ability to hear. Since I can't hear a child, I don't know if trying to have a baby is good idea for us. Without my hearing, I don't think I would be a good mother."

We hadn't discussed children – honestly, who did within the first few weeks of a new relationship? – but I could see that admitting this to my grandmother was hard for Stephanie. What I didn't know was if it was difficult because Stephanie didn't like to admit to not being able to do something, or because she'd had a secret yearning for a baby and felt it could now never be a reality. Either way, something was hurting the woman I loved, and I felt powerless to make it go away. I was about to stand up and take Steph to the kitchen, but my father put his hand on my arm to stop me.

"No," Abuela Rosa disagreed. "You cannot hear, but you can listen. Children do not need to have their noise heard to be loved. They need to have their heart touched, and you can do that, just as you did for Carlos. You have no ears, but you have a big heart. That is all you need. The rest is just..._detalles_. You are a good mother or no based on what you do, on how you love, not on what you hear."

Stephanie was quiet as she thought about what had been told to her. I couldn't have agreed with my Abuela's words more, and I hoped they reached that part of Stephanie that had been upset by the thought of not having children. I'd always said it wasn't possible for me to have another child because of the danger they would be in as mine, but in reality, that was just a front to throw up as an excuse to keep myself without any entanglements. In truth, now that I had Stephanie, I could easily picture a more traditional family for us. I don't know that I could go all the way to driving a minivan, but I could definitely see me attending soccer games and teaching him to protect himself.

Dios! What if we had a girl? I loved Julie, but not seeing her very often made it easier to distance myself from the thought of her dating or even dealing with bullies on the playground as a youngster. I looked at Steph's beautiful curls and thought of a little girl looking up at me with her blue eyes. Stephanie looked over at me just as that thought crossed my mind, and I found myself longing for something I'd sworn I'd never want. We looked at each other wordlessly for a few seconds – no masks to hide behind, just the confusion of recognizing there were desires there that neither of us had really considered before and uncertainty of what we should do with this new found knowledge.

Abuela Rosa snapped the connection by tapping Stephanie's cheek as my mother had done earlier. "There is time," she commented once she had Steph's attention. "You were not meant to be held back thinking of what you can't do. You were meant to fly with all the things you _can_ do. Learn your own heart, and follow that – ignore the voices that try to disagree with what you know to be true."

"The old woman is surprisingly good at this, isn't she?" Papi asked me softly.

I nodded, seeing how much Abuela Rosa's words were impacting Stephanie.

"Dinner is ready. Why don't you all come to the table?" Mama called from the doorway.

Abuela patted Steph's hand again and asked, "Why don't you give me a hand, and we'll join everyone else at the table. My daughter's been cooking all day, and I'm tired of only smelling it. I want to eat it, too."

"I agree," Stephanie replied, taking a deep breath as we moved toward the dining room.

My mother had clearly outdone herself, trying to impress Stephanie. I should have told her not to do that. Steph loved food and would have enjoyed anything Mama prepared. There was no reason to turn it into a buffet of Cuban food to expose her to everything at once.

I put Stephanie to my left, which had her sitting next to Abuela Rosa and across from my mother. We all crossed ourselves and bowed our heads as my father said a fast Spanish grace, and then the madness of passing around dishes began. I'd grabbed a small tablet from the kitchen on my way in to eat and put it on the table between us. As each dish was passed to me, I'd write what it was and a quick description so Stephanie could better guess what she might like.

When the movement slowed down, she took her first bite of a chicken and rice with beans. I tried not to stare, but I kept her in my peripheral vision to better gauge what she liked and didn't like in order to pass it along to Ella for future reference. When she let out one of her trademark moans, I knew we had a winner.

Papi laughed one of his full laughs and hit the table with his hand, getting Stephanie's attention, before he said, "I like her. Anyone who knows how to appreciate food is welcome at our table anytime." When he noticed Stephanie was still watching him, he lifting his hand to motion toward her plate and encouraged her, "Eat, eat."

By the time we were finished with dinner, Stephanie had tasted everything and had seemed to love it all. My mother was practically glowing from the praise of her cooking and was obviously riding the buzz of being the center of attention to the point that the quiet woman who raised me was nowhere to be found. In her place was a giddy woman incapable of editing a thing she said, causing her to continuously overshare embarrassing stories from my childhood.

While I enjoyed hearing Stephanie laugh, I was beginning to tire of feeling like I was on display for all to laugh over. She must have sensed it, because she touched my hand and said, "Thank you for this. It was nice to see you as a normal man for the night."

"I've always been a normal man," I replied quietly as my family continued to speak around us, ignoring our conversation to give us the illusion of privacy.

"Not to me," she disagreed. "To me, you've always been extraordinary."

I smiled tenderly at her, wishing that could be true so that I might feel worthy of the look of adoration she was giving me. "Only in the way I love you," I replied, convinced it was true.

"Maybe that's it," she accepted my words.

When dinner was over, my mother and Stephanie cleared off the dishes and brought out coffee and tropical fruit for dessert. I could see her delay briefly, before picking up her small fork and beginning the naturally sweet ending to her meal.

Before I could explain it, my mother reached out on the table top to get Stephanie's attention to share, "My husband is diabetic, so I stopped making desserts after the children grew up to keep him for indulging when he shouldn't. Now, I only make something on special occasions like Christmas, birthdays, and wedding celebrations."

"Subtle, Mama," I pretended to complain. When I'd first thought to bring Stephanie here, I'd had no ideas of marriage, but after only one night around my parents, I was being forced to admit that marriage sounded like a great idea, and I might even want to throw kids in the mix, too. Damn, I was going to have to avoid this place for a while, or there's no telling what I might discover next.

Stephanie looked at me and asked, "Is that why you don't eat dessert?"

"Mostly," I answered. My father had type one diabetes, which I obviously had not inherited, but I still didn't want to tempt fate by indulging too often. Plus, I had put too much time into developing my body into a weapon, and sweets didn't represent a great enough temptation to make me work even harder at keeping up my physical edge.

We spent the next hour comfortably talking around the dining room table. When I saw Abuela begin to yawn, I figured it was a good reason to end the evening for us, as well. Besides, after sharing her with my family all evening, I was suddenly keen on having Stephanie all to myself for a while.

We told Abuela Rosa goodnight in the dining room, and my parents walked us to the door. "Would you come back sometime soon?" Mama asked us.

"We'll try," I told her, hoping that was enough of a concession to have her drop it.

"But Stephanie needs to meet the whole family. They're all excited to meet the woman they've heard so much about. Your sisters in particular are eager to have a chance to talk to her," Mama pushed, inadvertently hurting her argument, instead of helping it along.

Unfortunately, Stephanie spoke up. "I'd like that."

My shoulders must have fallen a little, because she looked at me with a questioning expression that demanded an explanation.

"Stories about me like at dinner, only times three sisters and a brother."

She grinned at my fear. "Perfect." Then she turned back to my parents and said, "Hopefully, we can all get together sometime soon."

I pulled her back to my chest, tired of the distance that had been between us all evening, and complained about her committing me to an uncomfortable evening in the hot seat. "Babe!"

She looked at me by bending her head back to see me upside down and smiled, as though it would cause me to forget what she'd just agreed to on my behalf. Of course, she looked adorable, and tonight had been pleasant enough that I smiled back, causing my father to laugh.

"Yes, I like her a lot. She's already got your number, Carlos," Papi laughed, pulling her to him for a hug.

He kissed her cheek and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket to hand to her. I looked over her shoulder and saw that it was my parents' email address and cell phone numbers. He'd written her a note, encouraging her to text or email them anytime she wanted to. He assured her they'd love to hear from her, and it would allow them to stay in touch with me, since, apparently, I rarely called on my own.

She held it to her heart, as though thanking him for the gesture, and then slipped it into her bag.

Mama pulled her in for a long hug, as well. Stephanie surprised me by surrendering, instead of stiffening up as I'd expected her to with the blatant show of physical affection.

We stepped out to the porch and said a final goodbye, before walking hand in hand back to the Turbo.

When I stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street, Stephanie put her hand on my forearm and said, "They're wonderful. I can see some of why you are the man you are after meeting them. Thank you."

I covered her hand with my own, and then lifted it to my mouth to place a lingering kiss on her knuckles. I didn't want to let go, so I moved her hand to my thigh and began driving again to get us back to Trenton quickly. As we drove in silence, I found my mind going through the evening again, my chest warming with the memory of how natural it had felt to have her there – a part of my family.

It was surreal how easy it was to let her in completely. I'd always thought it would be awkward or like an unwanted intrusion, but I hadn't considered that when she became my heart that it would just be opening new doors to walk through with her, not some forced experience that had to be endured because it was expected. I wanted her there; hell, I wanted her anywhere I was. And the more I thought about sharing things with her, the more I wanted to open up everything. I didn't want to hold back. I wanted it all with her.

Of course, that kind of thinking eventually circled back to the physical things I wanted to share with her, and I found my foot dropping heavier on the accelerator.

"Eager to get home?" Stephanie asked, obviously noticing the increase in speed.

I took my eyes off the road for a brief second to let her see the desire pooling there for her. She must have gotten the message before I turned away, because I heard her sigh and felt her hand tighten down on my thigh.

As much as I loved the idea of our desires aligning once more, the grip she had on my leg wasn't helping me to comfortably wait until we were home to act on how I felt. I decided that turnabout was fair play, or foreplay as the case might be, and I moved my hand from where it was resting on top of hers on my thigh and placed it on her leg, slowly moving from her knee to her hip and back down. With each pass, I moved closer to the overlaid material of her wrap around skirt, until my hand was between the folds. Finally, I made it far enough to feel her skin beneath the skirt, and I moaned when I felt the garter she was wearing, holding up her stockings.

Damn, I nearly had the Turbo's speedometer pegged at two forty. I knew I should slow down, but I didn't want this trip to take a second longer than it had to, and the image of her out of that skirt standing in front of me in only her shoes, hose, and garter had me wishing the car had a little more horsepower to harness for more speed.

Finally, I couldn't wait any longer, and when I saw the exit for the Batcave, I took it, not willing to go through Trenton's traffic to return to Haywood tonight. Steph looked confused, but didn't ask anything. Instead, she surprised me by letting her knees drift farther apart, giving me greater access and stronger motivation to get us to the house in record time.

I'd never been so happy to enter my key code and see the gate shut behind me as I was tonight. And when the garage door closed behind us, I shut off the engine, removed my seatbelt, and pulled her to me hard to kiss her. There was enough tension between us at the moment that something had to give. The kiss wasn't nearly enough, but it was at least a start in telling my body that there was no reason to hold back now. We had privacy and a whole house to enjoy ourselves in.

We had the rest of the weekend, and I intended to use every moment of it to show Stephanie how each new day brought the realization that I loved her more and more.


	11. Fighting

_All the characters below are from the creative genius of JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your work as the beta on this story. I feel badly that you give up so much time to work on my chapters, but I'm certainly grateful that you do it._

**Chapter 11 - Fighting**

I had come upstairs in the middle of the day to change out of my suit from meeting with clients and into my uniform to be more comfortable. I was lacing up my boots, when I heard the outside door open, and then slam shut. It didn't take a genius to know that sound didn't bode well.

I hurried through the knot I was tying and stepped out in time to see Stephanie slam her purse down on the couch, and then stomp to the kitchen and nearly yank the refrigerator door off the hinge as she grabbed a bottle of water.

She turned her head in my direction, and I expected to see some hint of what had her upset; perhaps a run in with someone from the 'Burg or an insensitive stranger had hooked her anger. But instead, her eyes narrowed at me, and I instinctively took a step back. I was never one to run from a fight if that's what was called for, but no one would accuse me of charging in where angels feared to tread unnecessarily, either.

I waited to see if she would break the tension, but this time, she seemed to be comfortable in the silence. It figured the one time I truly wished she would speak to let me know what had her so upset was the one time she didn't care to talk.

For the first time in my life, I caved while waiting someone out and spoke first. "Babe?" Hopefully, it wouldn't count against me, since I'd technically only said her name. That could mean almost anything.

Her eyes tightened down more, and she screwed the lid on her water and set it on the counter hard enough to bend the bottom of the plastic bottle. Then it hit me. Stephanie was pissed, and she was pissed at me, not at some situation she'd encountered. If it weren't for the fact that I'd never had her anger turned in my direction, I might have found it humorous.

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling the need to clear the air of whatever had fallen between us. In the five minutes we'd been in the kitchen together, the distance between us had grown and was making me feel off center in a way I didn't like.

Stephanie took a deep breath and looked away, like she was trying to calm down. Her eyes closed, and she rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead, like she was trying to press a headache away. Her lips opened to let out a breath, and then she began mumbling. Normally, I tried not to listen in when she did this, because I knew she wasn't aware of the fact that she was talking out loud. But there was a time when I'd warned her that I was an opportunist, and right now, I needed a clue or two in order to plan out my next move.

She was too quiet for me to pick up much, until she jerked her head up and said, "I can't do this. I have to get out of here." Then she took off toward the couch to pick up her purse, and I knew she was about to run. She was angry at me and was going to walk out of here with nowhere to go just to avoid the conflict and stick her head in the sand.

I knew that was her standard response, and when she was mad at Joe or her mother, I never had a problem with it. But we'd said that there would be no pushing each other away and no running when we'd first gotten together, and the idea that she was planning on leaving me to stew on what in the hell was wrong hooked my temper, so I ran past her and blocked the door, my feet apart and my arms crossed over my chest.

Stephanie stopped walking when she took in my stance and rolled her eyes. "Ranger, move out of my way."

I let my blank face fall into place instinctually when I heard her use my street name instead of Carlos, as she had finally begun to call me.

My lack of response wasn't lost on her, and she pointed a finger in the direction of my face and said, "Oh no, you don't get to pull that damned blank face on me and stand there completely silent. Get out of my way."

"No," I said as calmly as possible, before realizing it didn't matter if I tempered my tone or not. She couldn't make out the difference, so I didn't need to waste the energy on it.

She crossed her arms and raised her voice. "You can't force me to stay here."

I raised an eyebrow in challenge to her statement. "You aren't leaving until you tell me why you're upset."

"I'm not telling you anything," she replied harshly.

"Then it looks like you're stuck," I raised my voice in return.

She lifted her hands, as though my response was ridiculous. "Fine!" I hoped that meant she was going to talk, but instead, she turned away from me and spoke as she walked back to the kitchen. "You can make me stay, but you can't make me talk."

I'd heard something similar from many men over the years, and every one of them had broken and talked when I wanted them to. But I didn't think my methods would work in this situation, because there was no way in hell I was going to hurt Stephanie like that.

I stretched my neck to the side, until I heard a satisfying crack, and decided if I couldn't force the truth from her, maybe I could finesse it out. There were many forms of intimidation, and they didn't all have to include pain to be effective.

I walked up behind her as she stood in the kitchen, facing the sink and staring straight ahead at nothing. I didn't want to frighten her, so I was trying to figure out how to approach her, when she spoke up.

"I know you're standing there, and you can just turn around and go downstairs, because you aren't changing my mind about this."

I moved to lean against the kitchen cabinet to face her, but still she wouldn't look at me. Stephanie had never shut me out before, and if she didn't look at me, there was no way for me to communicate with her. She had the upper hand in this situation.

I touched her cheek lightly with the back of my index finger, hoping she would turn to me, but instead, she moved her head and looked farther away. I'm sure there were several options that might have been effective here, but when she turned her head, it had the same effect on me as her pushing me away – I got mad and no longer saw the reason to temper it to spare her feelings. Obviously, she didn't feel the need to protect mine, so why was I holding back?

I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to stand in front of me, before cupping her cheeks softly between my hands. Her shock at my actions lowered her guard just long enough that she looked at me, and I started talking immediately before she realized I'd tricked her with the element of surprise.

"I take it I've done something to piss you off, and since I want to be sure we never have to repeat this kind of thing again, I need you to tell me what it was. I promised you I wouldn't let you run, and you promised you wouldn't let me hide from you, so we owe it to ourselves to keep our word to each other." I felt her shoulders relax as I spoke, but that was the only sign my words were having a thawing effect on her temper. "Tell me what's wrong…please."

She rolled her eyes when I added the please, but I knew she would talk, so I let her step back to get away from my grasp. "You've been having me followed." She stated it as fact, not question, so I knew someone had admitted to it, taking away my ability to deny it.

"Only since the run in with Joyce in the mall," I said, both confirming what she'd said as true and trying to add my defense in at the same time.

"Arghh!" Her hands went to her hips, and I knew this was about to get loud. "That isn't an excuse. I told you I needed to get out and do things on my own so that I could get some sense of control in my life."

"And you've done that," I countered, refusing to believe that having her shadowed took away her control.

"No, I haven't. I've been going around with this false sense of security that I was still an independent woman and my lack of hearing had made no difference, but it isn't true," she argued, one hand moving around in the air, as though it were making her point stronger in some way.

"Your lack of hearing makes no difference in your independence," I reminded her.

"Bullshit!" Obviously, we didn't agree on that point. "If that were true, you wouldn't have felt the need to have someone follow me around secretly, now would you?"

She had me there, but I had no intention of admitting it. "They weren't assigned to take care of you. They weren't driving you around or helping you out. They were only there if there was a repeat of your experience at the mall."

"It's the fact that they were there at all," she stated, as though it should make sense to me. "For the last week when I've gone out, I've had this strange feeling I was being watched. I was getting paranoid and looking over my shoulder, convinced I was losing my mind and that the loss of my hearing had made my spidey sense screwy somehow."

"You should always trust your instincts," I said out of habit, knowing that listening to that nagging voice in my head had saved me time and time again on missions.

"And in the past, I have, but because you've had guys following me around, spying on me, I couldn't see them, and after checking a dozen times and not seeing anyone, I began to doubt my instincts and doubt myself. What was supposed to be practice in building my confidence turned out to be an exercise in taking it away," she pointed out, making me doubt for the first time that I'd done the right thing.

I didn't want to go down the rabbit hole of doubting my choice, so I changed the subject. "How did you know they were there?" I asked, genuinely curious who had let the cat out of the bag.

"Monday, I was sitting on a swing at the park for about half an hour, trying to figure out if it was practical for me to ever try working for Vinnie again, and Hal came over and pushed me. It was nice, and he said he'd been passing by and had seen the Porsche, so he'd taken a chance that it was me."

At least he'd tried to cover up why he was there. It would be easy to turn on Hal and yell at him for approaching her, since he was supposed to stay hidden, but I would have done the same thing if she'd stayed in one open place like that for too long.

"Then Tuesday, I went back to my apartment to go through the stuff that had been buried under the rubble in my closet since Dillon left that message that he'd cleared away the debris. I'd been there about an hour, when Cal showed up with meatball subs for lunch. I asked him how he knew I was there, and he said he called the control room and asked for them to pull up my tracker, claiming to have had a craving for a sub and playing it off as though no one else liked them as much as the two of us did."

Cal was right on that front. He was the only man on my staff that had a permanent weak spot for greasy Italian junk food and didn't mind working out for an extra half hour to burn off the effects of his addiction. I knew he tried to hide it, but the number of times I'd seen pizza sauce on the keyboard in the control room coinciding with his assigned shifts were too many to be overlooked.

"Wednesday, I was in the mall and took a break to have a smoothie from the stand at the food court. I'd finished my shopping, and my bags were on the ground around my feet. I wasn't really looking forward to carrying them to the parking lot, because I'd had to park so far away from the door. Before I could find enough motivation to stand up and get moving, Woody appeared, claiming to be there to pick up something for his sister's birthday and wondered if I needed help carrying the bags to the car. I took him up on it, but couldn't help but wonder where his bag was, if he was there shopping, too."

I needed to work on developing a cover story with the guys, if these were the best lame excuses they could come up with to drop by and help her.

"And then today was the one I couldn't ignore. I went to the Tasty Pastry and got a few doughnuts for the girls, but on my way out, some kid was riding his bicycle down the sidewalk at a breakneck speed. I didn't hear him coming, so when he passed in front of me, we were so close, the box was knocked out of my hands and fell to the ground. I hadn't even knelt down far enough to pick it up, before Vince magically appeared and asked if I was all right."

"_Are_ you okay?" I asked her, never considering that she might be in danger from stupid bicycling teenagers too self absorbed to look out for her on the sidewalk.

"I'm fine, and that is totally not the point," she answered, her irritation growing once more. "The point is that when he showed up, I asked him how he knew to be there, and he said he was just passing by and saw my car, but there is no way that's true."

Damn, that meant he hadn't actually told her the truth and I'd admitted to this when I didn't necessarily have to. Well, except that not telling her something was one thing, but I'd never blatantly lied to her before, and I didn't want to start now that I was pushing her to trust me.

"So, after all these coincidental visits by guys from RangeMan, you put the clues together and realized that I'd had someone tailing you anytime you left the building," I summed up for her.

"No... I wondered if that was what was happening, but it just didn't seem possible that you would do something like that behind my back. When I got here, I went to your office, but you weren't there, so I went next door and asked Tank who my shadow for tomorrow was, because I was going to spend the morning with Grandma Mazur."

Already, I knew that I needed to get a good night's rest, because calling Tank to the mats for this was going to take all my strength to pull off. "What did he say?"

"He grimaced," she told me, "and then admitted that it was him."

"I knew if I told you that I was assigning someone to you that you'd try to lose them, so I had Tank set up a rotating shadow roster so that someone was watching your back anytime you left." I figured confessing to her was probably a good first step.

"Did it not cross your mind that if you knew I'd get upset about it, you probably shouldn't have done it?" She was back to screeching, which wasn't the response I'd been hoping for.

"What crossed my mind was that my woman had been hurt because some insensitive bitch wouldn't leave her alone, and no one should have to put up with that kind of harassment. I refused to ask you to limit your outings into crowds, because you shouldn't have to give up your freedom because of your injury, so I did the only thing I could to insure your safety without asking you to give up anything," I explained.

"You're wrong about that," she jumped in. "You may think your reasons were valid, but the moment you decided to assign someone to me without my permission, you crossed a line that said you didn't trust me."

"It's not about trust. It's about safety," I argued in return.

"Bullshit! It's about you always getting your way and thinking you were smart enough to sneak one in on me because I'm not aware of my surroundings enough to take care of myself. You didn't trust me to be able to handle myself," she yelled back, much louder than I'd ever heard her.

"You, I trust. It's the other idiots I don't know about," I countered.

"Then call it off," she said, dropping her voice back down to a normal volume.

"What?" I didn't understand what she meant.

In a strangely calm voice, she offered, "If you trust me, call off the shadow duty and trust that I'll let you know if I'm doing something that I feel uncertain about or that I'll contact you if I get into a situation that calls for help."

Damn, how did I respond to that? "If you call for help, it could take time to get someone to you. Having a guy assigned to be nearby means you never have to wait for back-up."

"True, but it also means I never have privacy or the ability to feel pride that I've handled a situation myself. I've lost my independence, not because I lost my hearing, but because I have an overbearing boyfriend," she spat out, going from calm to worked up once more. It was like riding a roller coaster, trying to keep up with her emotions.

"That's not what I intended," I tried assuring her.

"Intended or not, it's what you did," she said in a very defeated voice.

I decided at that moment, I'd take her anger anytime over the sound of her voice with no fight left in it.

I took a step closer, risking her lashing out at me, and relaxed when she lifted her hand and put it on my chest, just resting it over my heart. I placed my hand on top of hers, holding it to me. "I never meant to hurt you. I just couldn't stand the way your first trip out ended, and I swore I wouldn't let that happen to you again. I want to protect you, I always have, but admittedly, since you lost your hearing, that feeling is a lot more intense."

"Your mother told a story at dinner last weekend about you as a little boy. She said the neighborhood had a bully who used to follow you to school, and it worried her so much that she walked you to and from school every day," she said, bringing up one of the stories from my past I'd wished my mother hadn't shared.

"She did it every day, until Papi found out about it and forbid her from walking me anymore," I picked up the story.

"What happened the first day you walked to school without her?" she asked, as though she didn't know the answer to the question.

"The kid came up behind me, but Papi had taught me a few tricks, and I stood up to him," I recounted, still feeling the sense of pride I got whenever I thought about that altercation.

"Did you win?" she pushed.

"No, but he didn't, either," I told her. "I'd say it was a draw, but I put up enough of a challenge that he never tried it again."

"So when it was over, did you wish that your mother was still walking you to school, or were you glad to have a chance to keep walking by yourself?" she asked, making her point perfectly.

I nodded that I understood what she was doing, and then answered, "I was glad to be able to do it alone. As long as she walked with me, I was safe, but I knew it was only because I had her. But after I stood up for myself, I had the confidence of knowing I was safe because I was capable of standing up for myself."

"That's all I want," she said, moving a little closer so her arm wasn't stretched so far. "I want the ability to stand up for myself so I can develop that same sense of confidence. I know I may get knocked around a little at first, but I have to do this on my own in order to be able to look at myself in the mirror."

I hated losing, and it was clear from the look on her face that I had to admit defeat here. But when I looked at it from her point of view, I wanted to be able to give that to her. This was a chance for me to show her just how much I trusted and believed in her, so I had no choice. "I'll tell Tank he's back in the office with me tomorrow, and we'll put an end to the shadows effectively immediately."

She smiled at my words, but it didn't fully reach her eyes. The hurt was still there, and me admitting that she was right wasn't going to erase the pain like a magic pill. I needed to work a little harder to make this right.

"I'm sorry, Babe. I was focused on keeping you safe and didn't look any further than that."

I could swear her eyes softened as soon as the apology came out of my mouth. "I understand what you did, but I have to trust that you'll tell me if you're doing something that directly involves me from now on."

"Will you fight me on it if I tell you that I want to assign someone to shadow you in the future?" I asked, curious what she would say.

"Probably," she admitted honestly. "But I promise to listen to why you think it's necessary and look at it from your point of view, before dismissing it automatically."

I kissed her forehead, before pulling back to look at her to reply, "That's all I ask. I won't jump the bodyguard gun again without a strong reason, and I won't do it all without letting you know first, but I need to be able to trust that you won't try to lose them if the situations calls for having them there."

She nodded her agreement, and we stood there looking at each other in silence. I felt like the fact that neither of us were itching to pull away spoke volumes more than any further discussion on the topic could have, so I stayed there, looking at the woman I loved more than life itself.

I noticed the second her expression shifted to one of amusement and wondered what thought had just crossed her mind. "Did we just survive our first fight?" she asked.

I thought about it and couldn't remember ever raising my voice or losing my patience with her before, so it must have been our first real disagreement. "I guess we did."

"You didn't let me run," she stated in amazement.

I shook my head. "And you didn't let me shut down and hide."

"I didn't realize it was possible to fight to a resolution. In the past when I've yelled at someone, it's ended with them yelling back, and then a mandatory cooling off period before we can stand to see each other again," she informed me. This wasn't exactly news, as her fights with Joe were the stuff of legend in the 'Burg.

"I'm sorry," I repeated again, feeling the need to make amends for causing this whole thing in the first place.

"I understand why you did it; I really do. I've just never liked the idea of someone else making decisions for me. And the whole idea of having my every move being watched, when there is no security threat, is creepy. I know I overreacted, but it feels like there's already a lot I'm giving up, and the idea of having something like my privacy taken, too, just irritated me," she confessed in what I thought was an apology of sorts in return.

Then she smiled once more and said, "But if you're really sorry, I can think of some things you can do to make it up to me."

I raised an eyebrow, finding that every nerve ending in my body stood up and took notice when she offered that so provocatively. "I don't know," I played along. "I'm really_, really_ sorry. Is there something you can think of monumental enough to help me work off all this guilt?"

I let go of her hand to touch her face, just as her hand tightened to grab a fistful of my t-shirt and pull me toward her. "I've got a few ideas," she told me, before kissing my neck near my ear and lowering her voice to a sexy level. "Grab some water and meet me in the bedroom. This is going to take a while, and we can't have you giving out from dehydration."

Then she released my shirt and stepped around me to walk to the bedroom, without once looking back to check that I was following her. I'd never seen her take control to that degree sexually, and my cock instantly stood up to salute this new side of her personality.

I grabbed two bottles of water so I'd have one to put on her night stand. This might be about my penance, but I wanted to be sure she didn't have any excuses to stop before I was guilt free. I hoped the adrenaline let down after fighting didn't drain her energy too quickly. I had a lot of sins in my past to work off, and I think I was going to be a big fan of absolution Stephanie-style.


	12. Master Plans

_JE created and owns the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) you have been a wonderfully patient beta. Thank you for your hard work, especially with my crazy writing schedule._

_A/N: I am so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth last week. Real life came in the form of a team of four CPAs sitting in my office to ask me questions and request reports to complete my agency's annual audit. It didn't leave any time for writing or posting so I had to buck up and actually work hard during my time in the office. Hopefully that ordeal is behind me for another year, leaving me all kinds of time to catch up and get back into my usual groove of posting. For those of you who sent messages checking up on me – thanks! It was nice to be missed._

**Chapter 12 - Master Plans**

"So this is actually the second time you've had your ass handed to you over assigning shadows to Stephanie without telling her about it first," Tank said, standing over me in the sparring ring, offering a hand to help me up.

"You could say that, but I have to admit, this round is a lot easier to handle," I replied, twisting the offered arm and kicking his legs from underneath him, forcing his large frame to bounce on the mat.

While Tank used the rope to pull himself up, I played back in my mind my disagreement with Stephanie yesterday, and in those few seconds when Tank was shaking his head to clear it, something she said hit me much harder than the big guy's taped fist ever could.

"Shit!" I swore aloud, making Tank relax his stance and join me on my side of the ring.

"You ready to admit defeat this easy?" he asked. "It's only been forty minutes; we used to be good for at least an hour and a half when we did this."

I should have called him on that, trying to make us sound like we were a couple of old ladies, but I was still stuck in the memory. "Yesterday, when Stephanie was telling me how she figured out about the tail I'd assigned her, she said that she was at the park on Monday, trying to figure out how she could still work with Vinnie."

"Oh hell. What did you say to stop her?" he asked.

"I didn't say anything; she kept talking and went over the story of how she'd figured out what I'd done. I hadn't thought about her going after skips again until just then. I don't even know what she decided," I informed him.

"She could get torn apart on the streets," Tank pointed out, as though I couldn't see all the different ways this had bad idea written on it.

"True, but would you want to be the one to point that out to her?" I turned it around on him.

"Hell, no. That's the boyfriend's job," he laughed at me.

I winced at the word boyfriend. I'd always hated that term, and even when I was of an appropriate age, I hadn't thought it described me. Now that I had fifteen more years of experience, I definitely didn't want it on me as a label.

"I'm pretty sure that argument with Stephanie yesterday was supposed to teach me that she doesn't need me making decisions like that for her," I pointed out, knowing it was the coward's response if I left it like that.

"No, the argument yesterday was about you taking her choices away and not telling her about it. There's nothing wrong with you having a calm discussion, where you offer her some other alternatives to picking up skips by herself and risking her life," he reasoned.

"What alternatives would that be? Working in the office all day on searches? Maybe handling the paperwork you hate so much?" As I said it, I knew my sarcasm wasn't helping, but this was serious. How did I keep her safe and still allow her options in light of the fact that she'd be picking up skips that used to get the jump on her even when she could hear them coming?

"She could still do distractions," he put out there.

"How?" I challenged him, wanting him to consider how she could read the lips of a skip at a bar without giving away her disability.

"She manages to talk to us without it being a problem, and if she misses something, she could play it off as being drunk," he suggested.

"It's too risky," I corrected him, wanting to put a stop to this ridiculous discussion. "If the skip picked up on her inability to hear, it would increase the likelihood of it being used against her."

When he didn't respond, I turned to look at him and saw his face battle hard and glaring right at me. I pushed away from the ropes and readied myself for the attack I knew was coming. He picked up his right fist that he loved to lead with, and I all but gift wrapped my head for him by leaning away from that side so the blow from his left took me to the mats.

He knelt beside me to speak softly. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that I just knocked some sense into you, because if that didn't work, I can tell we're going to be spending a lot more time down here in the future. You need to get your head on straight and remember this is Stephanie you're talking about. You seem to think because she's lost her hearing, she's lost her sense of adventure and her need to get out. You need to spend a little time thinking about how to accommodate what she wants, instead of finding reasons that she can't do the things you know she's going to want to do."

Then the bastard walked off and left me there. I should have gotten up, but I just rolled over and stared at the ceiling, instead. Obviously, I needed to look at things a little differently, because as much I wanted to haul his big ass back into the ring to get him back for the cheap shot, I knew what he'd said was exactly right.

How was I going to balance this need to protect Stephanie without caging her and breaking her spirit? I used to think there was no situation I couldn't strategize through, but this was way beyond what I could handle, because I'd done the one thing I used to say I never could. I'd let her in, and now, I considered her absolutely vital to my existence, the thought of losing her was so overwhelming that I couldn't think past the possibilities for danger that surrounded her every time she left the building.

I heard the door to the gym open and knew I should get up, but I couldn't quite manage it. I wasn't really hurt; I just felt like the answer was almost in my grasp, and I was afraid if I got up now and broke the spell staring at the ceiling had inspired, I wouldn't be able to figure this out.

I could hear whispering, but my mind was too engaged in running scenarios that I didn't try to figure out who it was. It wasn't until my cousin and medic bent down over me, interfering with my view of the tiles above me, that I realized who had come in.

"Do I need to get my kit?" Bobby asked uncertainly.

"Nah, I'm good," I told him, not convincing him of that fact.

"What's doing, cuz?" Lester spoke up, taking me at my word but knowing something was off, even if my body was fine.

"Just trying to figure something out and coming up with nothing," I surprised us all by replying. Shit, I couldn't afford to pick up on Stephanie's habit of blurting things out with no filtering first.

"Want to share a little more?" Les followed up. "We're more than just handsome faces... We might be able to help."

I couldn't help but smile at his lack of humility and shook my head no. "I think this is one I have to figure out on my own."

This time, Bobby spoke up, "The fact that you're so convinced this has to be all on you tells me it has something to do with Bomber. Can I suggest that you at least talk to her about it? If you're struggling to find a solution, you might find that she's really good at sorting out the impossible."

"You guys aren't all bad," I told them, making them both light up like school boys. I couldn't have them walking around with swelled heads, so I added, "I don't care what Tank says about you. I think you're all right."

With that little seed of doubt planted, I jumped up and walked out, hoping like hell that I wasn't going to regret taking Bobby up on his advice. I trusted Stephanie with my life, so I needed to give her that same trust with her own. I needed to understand what she was planning on doing so she would know how worried I was for her and how committed I was to supporting her, while making it as safe as possible.

My leg was sore, so I took the extra few minutes to wait on the elevator to go up to seven and used that time to plan out what I was going to say.

Of course, it was only 0600, so she was nowhere near ready to wake up when I walked in the bedroom, and I swore at my lack of forethought on the time while I was planning out this great speech.

I jumped in the shower and took my time getting ready for the day, trying to steam out some of the soreness from going a few rounds with Tank this morning.

By the time I was ready to get dressed, it was 0700, so I decided it was late enough that I could risk waking Stephanie up to see if she'd be willing to talk. I tossed the towel that had been wrapped around my waist and walked over to the edge of the bed.

Everything about waking my woman appealed to me. First, there was the difficulty of doing it. I loved a good challenge, and she was never as stubborn as she was when it came to trying to stay in bed. Then there was the slow reveal of her body as I pulled the covers back to expose her creamy skin. I never got tired of unwrapping her like some sort of cosmic gift, created for the sole purpose of forcing my blood to pump with an urgency that nothing else touched.

And then there was my favorite part. As she would begin to wake up, her voice was always a little lower and scratchy, dripping of sex appeal, and she would stretch and press her body against mine, strategically channeling that increased blood flow. I'd challenge any red blooded male to try waking up Stephanie without it giving them a raging hard on and the desire to roll her over so they could push their way right into her body. Then again, if there was ever a warm blooded male near enough to see this side of Stephanie, I'd shoot him before his body had a chance to react, so I guess that wasn't a challenge anyone could really live up to.

It took nearly fifteen minutes of kissing, rubbing, and nipping at her neck, shoulders, and back, before I realized she wasn't going to wake up with such a gentle approach. I needed to take this to the next level, so I spooned up close behind her and used my right leg to push hers forward, bending it at the knee and giving me access to the place I most wanted to be between her thighs.

Luckily, after our make up session of sex last night, we'd both been too exhausted to even attempt to put on clothes, so she was still completely naked. Her body was tempting me with a silky siren song no one else was capable of singing

I took a minute to bend my body around hers, fitting us together perfectly so that my now hard erection was between her split thighs, just resting in the promise of warmth there. I took a deep breath and got the heady mixture of her cherry vanilla shampoo, mixed with the scent of our lovemaking from the night before. And what do you know; I could get harder still just from that smell alone.

My arms tightened around this woman that I considered to be a walking miracle, and I forced the fear that had crept up in the gym away, because it had no place between us. As tenderly as I could manage it, I began to rock my hips, allowing my tip to stroke from her entrance, up to the bundle of nerves I knew so well. I could feel her breathing change, but she had yet to make a sound, so I decided to take this up another notch.

I used my chest to bend her at the waist just enough to make the angle right, so on my next thrust, I eased my way inside her. I forced myself to move slowly, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure as I filled her.

I waited to see if she might open her eyes or acknowledge my presence in some other way, but she remained quiet after her initial response. I moved my hand up to cup her right breast, sorry that I couldn't pull it into my mouth, but trying to emulate what I wanted to do using my fingers, instead. Her nipples were already hard and pebbled in response, letting me know she was much more awake than she was letting on.

I refused to speed up until she acknowledged what was happening, so I kept my movements slow and focused on filling her completely with every inward thrust. Each time I joined us, I felt the connection deepen, and each time I withdrew, I had to hold myself back to keep from rushing back into her to stop that feeling of loss. I'd never felt the push and pull so acutely before.

Hell, this was exactly what I had been trying to figure out in the gym. How did I let her do what she wanted, while still trying to keep her safe enough that I didn't lose my mind with the possible harm that could come to her when she was away from me? I simply had to do it. There was no _letting_ her; it was her right. And just as I expected her to accept my past and the danger of my life without questioning it, she deserved that same level of respect from me. I had to find out what she wanted to do, and then work with her so that she could do it.

Just as I thought that, she used her bedroom voice that drove me wild and said, "Carlos…more," and then she moved her hand to mine and pushed me away from her breast, maneuvering my hand to her clit, instead. That act in and of itself was hot enough to throw off my restrained rhythm, but then she knocked down any control I might have been able to keep by raising her hand back up to the breast I had been forced to abandon and began to twist her own nipple.

I started talking to her in Spanish, knowing she couldn't hear me, but unable to stop the flow of words. I told her how hot it was to see her sharing with me the act of pleasuring her, and I urged her on by telling her exactly how it felt to be inside her as her muscles tightened around me.

She began to say my name, almost the way a religious person would chant a prayer, and I knew she was close. I shifted from the gentle stimulation with my hand and pressed down hard against her clit, causing her to scream out and clamp down around me at the same time. It had the same effect as flipping a light switch did to a bulb. My body immediately responded, and despite how much time we'd spent making love the night before, I spilled into her again, knowing I was powerless to resist the command to do so when her body gave it.

She made a series of unidentifiable sounds that I assumed meant she'd enjoyed what had just happened, and I continued to slowly thrust into her, until her muscles started to relax, trying to draw out every ounce of pleasure possible.

She lifted her head, and then let it fall back down to the pillow, where she made a noise of complaint that I found amusing. "Yuck it up, Batman," she threatened, feeling my amusement behind her. "I would have threatened to hurt you for waking me up this early, but since I'm too blissed out to care at the moment, I'll have to let it slide."

I tightened my arms around her, pulling her as close to me as possible and breathing her in once more, smiling at the thought that the smell permeating the air at the moment was exactly what had started the whole escapade this morning.

"Was there a reason you woke me up this early?" she asked.

I reluctantly loosened my hold on her so that she could turn around to face me in order for us to talk. When she rolled over and I got a eye full of her perky breasts, I wondered if this conversation could happen with her naked and so close to me. I wasn't sure I could concentrate on what she was saying with the distraction of them moving up and down so near my face with every breath she took.

I shook my head and commanded my eyes to lock with hers. This was too important to be distracted. Maybe one more look before I give up on them completely, I conceded, letting my gaze fall once more. Stephanie laughed and put her finger under my chin to raise my gaze.

"It's flattering, I admit, but I have a feeling it's not why you woke me up," she said, bringing my focus back.

"No, but that reason will still be there an hour from now, if you'd rather…" I let the question drift as my hand fell to cup her breast, rationalizing my action by telling myself this was the one I'd ignored previously because of our position, so it was really my duty to be sure it received an equal amount of attention.

Before I could lose myself any further from the silky feel of her sensitive skin under my rough fingers, she clamped a hand on top of mine, stopping my progress. "Talk first, and then we'll see about that, okay?"

When had she become the consistent strong one, leaving me to become the hormonal man unable to control himself? I moved my hand, knowing I wouldn't be able to talk intelligently if I had her breast in my palm. I finally had to back up a few inches and put it on the bed between us, because as long as I could feel her skin with my fingers, my blood wasn't being routed in a helpful way.

"What's on your mind?" she prompted after I settled down.

"I want to support you in what you want to do," I blurted out, proud that I lead by making it clear I was supporting her, not trying to force my will on her future, but at the same time, I knew my opening wasn't all that clear about what I was referring to.

She assumed her face of deep concentration, and then asked, "Is there a specific area you are thinking about, or did you just wake me up to say you were still in my corner?"

I relaxed a little at her joke and took a moment to get my head back together before speaking again. "You mentioned that you'd been thinking about going back to work for Vinnie. You didn't say if you'd reached a decision on that or not, but I wanted to let you know that if you decide you want to do that, I will help you."

Her brow furrowed, and I couldn't tell if she were confused or irritated. "How exactly are you planning on helping me?"

"It would depend on what you want, but I could arrange for some additional training for you with the guys to help tighten up some of your skills so you could make up for the lack of your hearing," I said as the idea popped into my head. I didn't think it wasn't a bad suggestion as I said it aloud.

She seemed to be considering what I was saying, so I added to it. "You could also come to work at RangeMan full time, like I've been hinting for a year now, and you could run all your skips through us, which would give you the benefit of a partner other than Lula if you wanted it." I wasn't as sure how she'd feel about that, but I knew I'd feel loads better if she'd use one of the guys to pick up her skips.

"And how would the guys react to being forced to work with me now?" she asked, truly interested, not showing any signs of being defensive.

"My guess is they'd be thrilled. They already fight for the chance to be around you, and if there could be any regularity to it, they could all have a chance, or we could talk about assigning you a permanent partner that would end the arguing over who got to work with you," I offered, seeing either option as possible.

"If I did that, would you still assign someone to shadow me for my own protection, just because you could justify it by saying I was in more danger while going after skips?" she pushed, coming up an argument I might have tried earlier. I knew it wasn't as likely to fly anymore, so I doubted I would have attempted it now.

"No," I promised her. "And I'm not pushing you to go after skips if you don't want to do it anymore. I just wanted to bring it up so you wouldn't have to figure out how I would feel about it and jump to any conclusions that weren't right."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she replied, "You mean, try to do it behind your back without telling you so that you had to find out either through the grapevine, or by accidently coming across me while I was trying to apprehend somebody."

This seemed like a trap, so I wasn't sure how to answer her. I finally decided that even though it sounded like what I'd done to her with the shadow, and since it was exactly what I feared would happen, I answered her honestly. "Yes, that's what I mean."

She touched my face softly and smiled at me. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do. I don't want to give up working for Vinnie, but I was a little worried about going out there alone, or even with Lula. As much as I like hanging out with her, I think I learned at the mall that she isn't really capable of backing me up anymore. I can't compensate both for my lack of hearing and her lack of skills."

I moved my hand to rest it on the dip of her waist, just above her hip. Her skin was so warm under my hand that it comforted me to be able to touch her and pull that warmth into me.

"I didn't bring this up to rush you into a decision of any sort. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, you never have to work again, but I know you, and I know you want to, so I needed to tell you that I wasn't going to stand in your way of whatever you want to do, I just hoped that you'd let me help you plan out some adjustments to your previous style that might help you compensate for the lack of hearing," I explained, finally feeling like my mind was getting out what I'd wanted to tell her an hour ago.

"I promise to discuss it with you when I get closer to a decision. I know I can work in the office, and I have been doing that a little more lately. Sitting at a desk has helped me to feel like I'm contributing a little more, but it also reminds me why I swore I'd never do another full time office job," she admitted with a smile.

A brief period of silence fell as we continued to touch each other, not necessarily in sexual ways, but I could never deny the heat that was always simmering anytime I was near Stephanie – especially if she wasn't wearing any clothes.

She chuckled a little and said, "We just had a totally mature conversation about my job, and no yelling was required."

I pushed her hair back to keep it from falling into her eyes. "I'm glad my master plan worked."

"What plan was that?" she asked, moving her hand from my shoulder down my chest to softly circle my nipple.

"I figured if I tired you out first, you'd be too exhausted to argue with me," I joked.

She laughed and added, "Don't forget with all the feel good endorphins coursing through my veins after that wake up call, I was too blissed out to want to argue and ruin my chance at another round before you announce you have to go downstairs."

I liked the way her mind worked. Even if that hadn't been my initial plan, I was okay with improvising, now that she'd mentioned it.

"I don't have any appointments on my calendar today, Babe," I told her in response to her challenge, moving my hand from her waist to the curve of her hip, and then back to cup her ass.

"That is good news," she replied, leaning forward to kiss my Adam's apple, letting her teeth graze down my neck to my collarbone.

I pulled back to look at her so she could read my lips. "Why is that good news?"

I saw the gleam in her eye before she spoke, and I knew I was about to get screwed – and not in a good way. "Because I got a check from my insurance company to cover the loss of my shoes and clothing, and I need to do some major shopping to get my wardrobe back where it needs to be. There's a big chunk of empty space in your closet that I intend to fill, and you can come with me, since you don't have any pressing appointments."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling, knowing that even though the mall was as far removed from a good time in my book as one could get, it would be one on one time with Stephanie, so I wouldn't turn her down. "I'll go, but only if you let me help you replace your lingerie."

"Oh, if we're going to do that, then I think we have a little work to do here first," she stated seductively, running her hand down my abs.

"What kind of work?" I asked, knowing better than to assume the best case scenario when she was being this playful.

"I think we need to be sure we're both too drained to think about sex while we're out, or we won't be able to make it through trying on the lingerie without getting thrown out before we have a chance to buy anything," she warned.

"I like the way your mind works, but I think there's a problem with your plan," I couldn't help but point out.

She gripped my now eager erection and stroked it slowly. "What's the problem?"

"The only way I can see you in lingerie and not think about sex is if I'm unconscious," I warned her, getting a smile in return.

"I love a good challenge," she teased, hooking her leg over my hip and pressing herself against me.

"I couldn't agree more," I responded, unable to keep my lips off her for another moment.

There was a time when I would have thought it was impossible that I would let a woman trick me into taking her shopping at the mall, but at the moment, I felt too good to care. This was my woman, and I knew enough now to say that I didn't care where she forced me to take her. As long as we went together, it would be just fine.


	13. Compromise

_I'm shamelessly using the characters below from the creative mind of JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) I'm also shamelessly using your skills as a beta to turn my jumbled mess into a true story – thank you._

**Chapter 13 - Compromise**

"Hang on," Tank's voice came over the phone. "You need to say that again, because there's no way I heard it right over the noise from the guys in the hall."

"Why are the men noisy?" I couldn't help but ask. The office floor rarely got loud when I was there, so I assumed something unusual had happened.

"Ella just brought out some kind of chocolate cake with a cream filling, and they are informing her – loudly – of how much they approve," he said, with no inflection of joking in his voice.

I paused, trying to weigh the merits of flat out asking if she was really cooking unhealthy food for the men anytime I was away from the office, but I decided to let it go, figuring if she was doing it, they obviously approved and wouldn't turn her in for fear of her stopping.

I let what I hoped was his attempt at a joke slide and repeated my original comment, since it was the purpose of my call. "I said to cancel the core team meeting at 1400 hours, because I won't be there."

"Yeah, I got that," he replied, "but I thought you gave a reason of why you wouldn't be there, and that's what confused me."

"I'm at the mall with Stephanie," I informed him.

"Is she okay?" he followed up, sounding concerned. When did Tank turn into the mother hen of RangeMan?

"She's fine," I assured him.

"Then why are you there?" he wondered aloud, as though I were challenging his opinion of how the world worked.

I paused, unsure of how to answer his question, and not convinced I even wanted to try, but Tank interrupted my musing to ask, "Did you just sigh? When did you start sighing?"

"We can discuss this more on the mats in the morning," I threatened.

"Damn, you're moody," he replied, while laughing at my expense. "I'll call the guys and let them know that you can't meet in a couple hours because you're busy carrying Stephanie's bags through the mall."

Was that what I was doing here? Had I somehow become one of those emasculated men that hooked up with a woman, and then totally forgot who they were and just followed around their wife like a dog waiting for a bone to be thrown his way?

"Ranger," Tank spoke in his old Army voice. "You still with me, man?"

"I'm here. I was just…" Damn, that was close. I'd almost told him what I was thinking, which would have been a huge mistake. The new, joking Tank wasn't somebody I wanted to admit to that I wondered if being with Stephanie had changed who I was.

"Look, I'm giving you shit because it's a lot easier than being level with you and admitting that most of us have seen the two of you together and we're jealous as hell. I think it's cool to see you manning up and doing what you should have done a couple of years ago, and especially with everything she's going through, you've been nothing but solid since you two got together. The guys have been talking, and seeing you two is downright inspirational. Except for Santos, I think most of them are wishing they were in your shoes right now," Tank admitted, putting my mind at ease a little more.

"What's doing with Santos?" I couldn't help but wonder.

"He sees the possibility of everyone else settling down as an influx in women needing his skill set in one night stands, so he's happy to be the lone swinger left at RangeMan, because the size of his buffet is about to increase." Tank had most likely quoted my cousin for that, because it sounded exactly like something he'd say.

"You looking for a woman, too?" I couldn't help but pry a little while Stephanie was in the dressing room.

Tank laughed long and deep over my question. "Hell, man. I've been looking, but not everybody is as lucky as you are in finding the perfect woman basically delivered to you in a diner."

"Hey, Carlos," I heard Stephanie call out to me, so I moved to the entrance of the dressing room in the ladies section and saw her step out in a pale blue dress that was a cross between stylish and sexy with classy elegance. "I like this, but can't think of a single reason why I'd need it," she admitted, looking to me for advice.

"Get the dress, Babe," I told her, loving how she looked in it and running through different places I could take her that would need that exact look.

"But why?" she pushed, never afraid to stand her ground with me.

I raised an eyebrow, not willing to tell her what I was thinking. She put her hands on her hips and spun around, only pretending to be angry that I wasn't answering her question. In truth, I could see the gleam in her eye that told me she loved me teasing her like that.

"So where is she going to wear the dress, Carlos?" I heard a deep voice ask in my ear.

"Maybe to your funeral, if you don't stop putting your nose in where it doesn't belong," I bit back at my second-in-command.

"Easy, man. You're the one that called me," he laughed at my expense. "I had to assume since you didn't hang up that whatever was being said was for my benefit, as well."

"Just cancel the meeting and reschedule for tomorrow before the morning briefing," I advised, and then I hung up.

I turned to look anywhere but at the dressing room door, and a few more dresses caught my eye, so I stepped away and picked out some things I wanted to see on Stephanie. When I got tired of waiting for her to step out again, I lifted my phone and sent her a text.

_Come__ to the dressing room door_.

It took a few minutes, but she appeared in a skirt and some kind of complicated wrap around shirt that could easily work in a board room or a bar for happy hour.

"Nice," I complimented, but she wrinkled her nose, as though she wasn't convinced.

"Here." I handed the hangers to her. "Try these on."

Her eyebrows rose.

I guessed she was questioning why I was being so bossy, so I softened it slightly and added, "Please."

That earned me an eye roll, but she turned around and disappeared once more into the curtains. Time passed slowly, but I slipped into my zone with no effort at all and waited. When the door to her dressing room opened again, I spun around and saw her come to me in the long, fitted black dress I'd given her. I felt my mouth go dry as she glided toward me, the slit up one side giving me a peek-a-boo glance of her upper thigh with every step and the cut at the front giving me just the top of her rounded breasts, without turning the dress into something cheap and slutty.

She turned when she got to the doorway and showed me the back, which had a few criss-cross straps and was low cut enough to give me her entire back as a teaser of what the rest of the material was hiding.

"Do you like it?" she asked after completing her spin for my benefit.

I raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked down at the front of my pants to draw her attention there, as well, so she could see exactly how much I liked the look of her in that dress. When I glanced back up, her face was a lovely shade of pink, and I nodded yes, that I did like the dress.

"That one is coming home with us, too," I advised her.

The smile fell from her face, and she said, "No, Carlos, it can't. This dress is nearly six hundred dollars. There's no way I can afford to put that much into a formal dress."

"You're not," I corrected her. "I picked it out, and I'm buying it, but that dress is coming home with us, Babe," I informed her, unwilling to bend on this point.

Her bottom lip went between her teeth, and I watched her worry over something, so I took a step closer and asked what was wrong.

"You can't buy me clothes," she said without much conviction.

"Of course I can," I replied, unable to see the problem.

"I'm not with you for your money," she added.

"I know that. If anything, I think you'd be happier if I didn't have it," I agreed with her. "You always seem a little uncomfortable about me giving you things, but I want to do this, and I hope you'll see that giving you things like this makes me happy."

"So if I let you buy this dress, it will make you happy?" she turned her rephrasing of my comment into a question.

I gave her a single head nod and explained, "Yes, because I know exactly where you can wear this dress, and the idea of planning for that night makes me very…happy."

Stephanie glanced down at the now pronounced bulge behind my zipper and smiled. "Yes, I can see your joy rising up now." And with that, she spun around and disappeared behind the door once more.

Four hours later, after working our way through three department stores, two specialty clothiers, and Victoria's Secret, we were loading her bags into the back of the Cayenne.

"Anywhere else you want to go?" I asked, willing to take her anywhere.

She blew a curl away from her face and shook her head no. "I'm out of money to spend; I think it would be best if we just went home."

"You know the money isn't an object," I reminded her, knowing that even if she tried, with her frugal ways, she'd struggle to spend all the money I had put away.

"And you know it is to me," she replied in return. This was clearly an area we didn't see eye to eye on, so I let it go and pushed back the strand of hair that had fallen once more across her face.

I decided to push my luck and asked, "As long as we're talking about money, what would it take to convince you to let me get you car?"

"I have a car," she replied, as though that were the right word for the 1996 Dodge Spirit she was currently motoring around in.

"You don't have a car," I corrected her. "You have a motor strapped to a thin layer of metal that sprays toxic fumes when you drive around."

"That trail of toxic fumes gets me from where I am to where I need to be. I don't need you to buy me a new car," she firmly disagreed.

Clearly trying to reason with her wasn't going to get her to give in, so I tried a different approach. "What would it take for you to be open to the discussion of us jointly upgrading your car to something safer?"

"My car is safe. It isn't going to instantly combust," she disagreed with a little more volume than before. "There may be smoke, but I can assure you, there is no fire."

I didn't think it was the right time to point out that the expression using those two words definitely disagreed with her stance on the subject, but I wisely let it go. "That car is one fast take off away from choking out and leaving you stranded. If that happens on the wrong side of town, or at night, then you are in a potentially dangerous situation. There is a great deal of rust on the under carriage, which makes planting a reliable GPS tracker more difficult, and the pads on the brakes are virtually non-existent. It's not safe."

"You can't buy me a car," she repeated, as though the explanation that accompanied that sentence would become self-evident if she said it loud enough.

"Why not?" I needed to understand if we were ever going to move forward on this subject.

"Because I don't want to be one of _those_ women," she said almost as a stage whisper.

"What women?" I asked, feeling my patience run out. Why couldn't she just let me buy the car and be done with it?

"Forget about me for a minute," she abruptly spoke up. "What do you think of the Police Chief's new wife?"

Years of maintaining a blank face couldn't mask my reaction when she brought up the thirty-one-year-old wife of the sixty-one-year-old chief of police. I'd run a background check on her after their engagement was announced to see if there was any information that might prove useful in the future and found out that his bride-to-be still had a male friend on the side that even the four carat diamond on her finger didn't motivate her to give up. She'd upgraded her car, her style of dress, and her home address, but her behavior didn't seem to be impacted by the fact she was getting married.

Stephanie was watching me with an expression probably much like a hawk has before it swoops down and grabs its prey, so I knew she was expecting an answer.

"I don't believe the chief of police married for love, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, he's marrying her because she's young and probably puts out as much as he can handle. But why is _she_ marrying _him_?" Stephanie pushed.

"I have to assume he either has the ability to help her or someone she loves because of his position in law enforcement," I conceded.

"No, he's in a position to buy her all the things she wants, to give her a life where she never has to work, and he's gone so much at work, she doesn't have to see him all that often," she explained, as though the information were a direct quote from the chief's wife.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, always interested in whatever Stephanie wanted to share with me, but a little confused abut what this had to do with me buying her a car.

"Because I refuse to be seen as the chief's wife," she said, confusing me further.

I tried to make the connection, but in the end, I had to ask for help. "Explain."

Steph's eyebrows shot up, letting me know that I probably hadn't asked so much as I had demanded, but I hoped she understood my intent was nicer than my delivery.

"I was living paycheck to paycheck, driving cars that barely ran, mooching off my parents for groceries some months, and barely keeping myself afloat," she began, speaking much quieter, causing me to step closer to hear her.

"Then you come back from a mission, and within forty-eight hours, the two of us are dating, and a week later, I'm living in your apartment. With what's in the back of the Cayenne, I'll be dressing much better, and because of my hearing, I think everyone knows I'm not working. The only thing different between the chief's wife and me is that she has a diamond on her finger and a new car."

I started to object, but she held her hand up to stop me. "I know that isn't the way it is, but it's how it would look. You may not care about what people think of you, and I'm trying to be the same way, but I've got the 'Burg already watching my every step. I can't take a car from you, or it will just provide them with more and more evidence to fuel their impression that I'm nothing but a gold digger."

Damn, how do I fight the impression of the 'Burg? "You are wrong about something," I began, hoping I wasn't about make things worse. "I do care what people think of me. I've spent a great deal of time working on my image so that all I have to do is walk into a room and people have certain expectations of why I'm there and how I expect them to treat me. So, I get the point about you not wanting to come off as only being with me for my money."

She relaxed, and her eyes crinkled slightly at the edges, making me think she was trying to hold back a smile. I almost hated to keep going and take that away from her, but this point was too important to let go.

"But I don't live my life worried about the impression I'm giving off, either. I have rules for how I interact with people, but if there is something I want, then to hell with the rules. And there is one major difference between you and the chief's wife that I think totally negates your point."

"What's that?" She seemed more curious than upset, so I decided to level with her.

"I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen them in public together since they began dating, and even then, there was no emotion, no love visible between them. You and I have been seen together enough to keep the gossips busy, and I think if we are even in the same room together, everybody around us is aware of how we feel. And I've gotten plenty of complaints about how damn happy we both seem when we're actually side by side, so I think there isn't a bat's chance in hell that someone will think we are together for any reason other than love." I watched her carefully as I spoke to gauge any kind of reaction.

Her head leaned to the side slightly, and she drew her lips into her mouth, before straightening up and saying, "Isn't there some sort of middle ground here?"

I liked the idea of compromising with her on the issue. It might not be what I wanted, but if it could be a step in the right direction, I might be willing to let it go. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't want a fancy new car, and you don't want me driving the beat up old car. Could we meet in the middle and go with a slightly used car that isn't too flashy to make us both happy?" she offered.

It wasn't what I wanted, but after the way she'd reacted when we started this discussion, it was a lot better than I thought I'd get for a while. "Can we pick it out together so that I can look it over first?" I asked.

"Only if I have the ability to veto your suggestion if it seems too flashy. I mean, just because we're together doesn't mean my ability to blow up things is going to disappear," she pointed out.

I knew I'd insure it for her, but she did have a point.

"Agreed," I told her, surprised when my answer caused her to smile and step close enough to put her arms around my waist.

I took her rare initiation of affection and stood there with her in my arms until I heard a car honk its horn, causing me to remember we were still standing in the damn mall parking lot. I needed to learn to pay better attention to my surroundings.

I leaned back enough to let her know I wanted her to look at me and asked, "Hungry?"

She grinned, which I took to be a yes, so I drove us to a little Italian bistro on the waterfront. It wasn't fancy, but it was far enough away from the 'Burg that I doubted we'd run into any of the people she still seemed to want to avoid.

When we sat down, she gave the menu a fast perusal, and then put it down, obviously having no trouble making up her mind what she wanted. I might give her grief about her eating habits, but it was damn refreshing to be with a woman that didn't constantly worry about what we was eating and pretending to be able to survive on child-like servings.

I watched her in the dimly lit restaurant and felt a longing to be alone with her. We'd been in the public eye for the better part of the day, and I wished we were alone so I could pull her across my lap and feed her myself, just to increase the connection between us.

While I was lost in thought, Stephanie must have been working her mind in a different direction, as she asked, "When we were talking in the parking lot, did you raise your voice, or get angry or frustrated with me?"

What a peculiar question. "No, I didn't raise my voice," I assured her. "And while I did get frustrated that you were shutting down my desire to help you get a different car, I wasn't angry at all. I may want things for you, but I'd never force them on you." I watched her process what I'd said, before asking, "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged and said, "When Joe and I used to try to talk about things that required a compromise, I think we were both so defensive and hell bent on getting our viewpoint acknowledged that we never really talked. We jumped right to the loud vocals that precede yelling."

I tried to keep my face neutral, instead of cringing when she compared something between us to what she used to have with Joe.

"But this afternoon, I didn't get defensive or start yelling at you, because I felt like you were listening to me and not preparing what you wanted to say in return while I was talking. I didn't know if I was right, or if the fact that I couldn't hear your tone meant that I just missed how you really felt," she explained.

I watched her take a drink from her newly filled glass of water and return it to the table, before I took her hand in mine and held it on top of the table. "You couldn't hear my words, but I'm convinced no one else in the world can read me as well as you can. You would have known if I was frustrated or angry."

She considered that for a while, and then stated, "I can't read you better than Tank."

I laughed at that statement. "I might have to disagree with that," I told her truthfully. "He knows me from years of working together, so he knows what I want and how I want it done in the office and on the street. But that is nowhere near the same thing as being able to read me outside of work."

"You have been a little on the closed off side," she said with a grin.

"Do you think I'm closed off?" I asked, feeling defensive and trying to hold it back.

Her fingers tightened around mine, as though sensing my concern and trying to console me before she could get her words up to the task. "I think you are more open now than I ever thought possible – at least with me. But my guess is the guys still think of you as pretty hidden."

"I hope so," I admitted. "You're the only one I want to open up to."

"Can I ask you something off the subject?" She seemed a little uncertain about whether or not she wanted to, so I squeezed her hand this time.

"Anything," I assured her.

"Do you think it would be safe for me to pick up the low level skips I used to go after?"

I waited, hoping she would say more, but that seemed to be all she was going to offer me at the moment.

"Yes, I think you can, but I think it would be a good idea for you to work with a real partner, too," I gave her my opinion and wondered where this was leading.

"I miss going out. I miss the search and reacting to the unknown of what will happen when the door opens, but I don't want to be foolish and embarrass myself, either," she admitted, sounding uncertain about what to do.

I brought my free hand up to trace the tops of her fingers with mine. "How do you feel about taking on a RangeMan partner?" I asked, hoping I wasn't pushing her too much.

She made a face of indecision, but not irritation, which relieved me. "I guess it would depend on who it is. Most of the guys are already teamed up with somebody, so I don't want to break them up."

I had already thought about this and had an idea, but I didn't know how she'd feel about my suggestion. "Well, Bobby and Lester are at their six-month mark, so I would usually break them up to work with someone new," I offered, figuring Bobby would make a great partner for her, because he would be right there if something went wrong to take care of her.

"No," she said, shooting it down completely. "I don't think I should work with anyone on the core team. Plus, if it were Bobby, I'd feel like the only reason he was with me would be to watch over my health. It wouldn't be the same as having a partner. I'd have a keeper."

Damn, her instincts were making this harder than I'd hoped.

"Hector and Brett both do installs for half of their time with RangeMan, so they don't have a regular partner; they rotate wherever there is a need. Since you aren't talking about full-time field work, either of them could back you up whenever you wanted to go out, but you might have to go on a service call with them from time to time," I offered, coming up with this idea as I said it.

She was silent for a while, truly thinking it over, which pleased me. She wasn't just dismissing it, which made me think Brett was about to be the most envied man at RangeMan.

"I think I'd like Hector to work with me," she replied, surprising me to the point I couldn't cover it up.

"Really?" I asked, not able to understand why she'd chosen him.

"Yes." As she spoke now, her eyes grew in their passion, and I knew she had hooked herself on the idea. "He helped pull the equipment together for me when I first lost my hearing, he is really effective in picking up skips because his appearance all but scares them into the car, and I think he'll watch over me without picking on me for my mishaps."

"All that is true," I agreed, before pointing out what I thought was the obvious objection to partnering them together, "but he can't speak English. You won't be able to read his lips."

"True, but he knows sign language, so we can talk with our hands and not be bound by English or Spanish," she pointed out, perfectly pleased with her solution.

I didn't have a ground to stand on, so I nodded my assent and said, "Tomorrow morning, I'll talk to Hector to see how he feels about it. If he's up for it, then it looks like you have a new partner."

She was grinning from ear to ear, obviously excited about the idea of working outside again, and I found myself hoping Hector would agree to look out for her. I knew he was uniquely qualified, but I wondered if he would agree. Regardless, I knew I was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep that look of excitement on her face.

"Then we have something to celebrate," she said softly, pulling her hand from the table and resting it high on my thigh.

I dropped my gaze to her hand, and then looked back up at her sexy smile. Every day, she was reclaiming more and more of her independence, and with that came a confidence that told me she was going to be all right.

I didn't know if the details were ironed out enough to truly celebrate, but when she started squeezing my leg and rubbing more to the inside of my thigh, I decided I'd be glad to mark this occasion any way she wanted. And from the expression on her face and the dark hue of her eyes, the way she wanted to celebrate was going to take most of the night.


	14. Letting it All Out

_JE created all the characters below, I am merely taking them out for a little fun._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you once again for all your work as the beta on this story. You have an incredible gift for not only improving the technical aspects of the story, but for making it more fun too._

**Chapter 14 – Letting it All Out**

I dismissed the men from the morning meeting, pleased with the information that had been shared regarding current cases and overall business activity.

As the guys left, I called out to Lester and Hector to stay behind.

Les was beside me, so he turned his back to the departing group and raised an eyebrow. "What's doing, cuz?"

"I need a pulse on the guys," I told him as the reason for asking him to stay behind.

"Anything in particular?" he asked, proving that despite his joking exterior, when the situation called for it, he was fully capable of getting serious.

Each of the guys on the core team had a valuable skill, unparalleled by anyone else in the organization. Bobby was a peacemaker and could diffuse nearly any situation. I don't know if it was something that grew out of his skill set as a medic, but for whatever reason, he was the negotiator and the one that I could call on to stop a problem before it escalated.

Tank, aside from his sheer size for intimidation, spent part of his career in the Army as a drill sergeant. When things began to get disjointed, I could depend on him to pull everything back into shape. Whether that was behavior from the men, overall fitness, or general attitude, he could easily bring that persona out and the men automatically fell in line.

Then there was Lester. Sure, he joked and played harder than nearly anyone else I'd ever met, but there was a purpose behind that seemingly laid back character. He could size up a group faster than anyone I'd ever met. He had a gift for knowing where allegiances fell or the attitude of a group, and the amount of time he spent simply hanging out with the guys meant there was not a whisper of gossip in the building that didn't make its way to him.

In short, Lester's ability to get the guys to open up to him would enable him to get the information I needed without it seeming forced.

"I'm assuming everyone knows about me and Steph," I began.

"Man, that's old news. We all knew long before you did," he informed me, basically repeating what Tank had said.

"I need to know how the guys would respond to her working in the field again if she had a RangeMan partner," I told him, knowing that I could trust him to answer me honestly and to keep the information to himself.

He ran his hand over the top of his hair, rearranging the gelled spikes that were there. "Everybody was thrilled to see her moving in. It means she'll be safe and close by so we can all keep an eye on her. There's no issue at all with you guys being a couple and working together. But her in the field, not able to hear if someone is sneaking up her…I don't know how I feel about that, much less the guys."

"I'm going to talk to Hector about working with her, but before I make it public, I need to know if there's anything else I need to consider. She wants her life back, and a big part of that was the lower end bonds for Vinnie. If I tell her she can't do it, she'll try it anyway to make a point. But if I'm careful about helping her, then hopefully, we can at least keep her safe in the process," I told him, watching his eyes weigh the options and come to the same conclusion I had.

"I see the corner you're in, but…Hector?" Les tipped his head in the direction where Brett and Hector were standing going over some specs from a client system installation scheduled for later today. "Can't we keep her in the core team and let us back her up?"

"I suggested that, but she seemed to think it was a bad idea that it put her above everyone else, and she refuses to do anything that might allow her to be portrayed as using me for my money or influence. It's like she knows she needs help, but she won't just let me do it," I said, clearly voicing my frustration.

From his expression, I could tell he understood.

"Well, rock... Meet the hard place," he summed it up easily. Then he turned and looked behind him quickly, adding, "I'll put some feelers out and get the guys used to the idea of her being in the field again. My guess is they'll be worried about her getting hurt, but since we all know her, they'll understand why you're letting it happen."

I nodded that I'd heard him, and he knew the discussion was finished, so he turned and walked over to a small group and made a comment that had them all laughing right away.

Hector caught my eye, and I nodded to my office. He walked out, and I knew we'd meet up there. I spoke to a few of the guys on my way out of the conference room, realizing this was technically the first weekly staff briefing I'd attended since I'd gotten back from my mission. For some of the guys, it was their first chance to talk to me, and as a leader, I knew how important it was to let them see me walking around in control of the organization.

After making my way out, I turned down the hall and headed to my office, where Hector was waiting in a chair across from my desk.

I shut the door and addressed him in Spanish. "_I__ need a favor_."

"_Name it_," he replied, eager to do whatever I asked.

Years ago, I'd gotten Hector's file as a skip to bring in. He'd been arrested on some trumped up murder charges, and the DA had tried to negotiate with him to get him to turn evidence in exchange for his freedom. Hector had refused and run, instead of facing the certain death that jail or the plea deal with the DA would certainly mean.

When I caught him, he hadn't shown any fear, but he'd wisely recognized that he couldn't get away and had held his head up with pride, but not arrogance. Something about the way he carried himself caught my attention, and I talked to him while we drove from the warehouse where I'd found him to the police station, where I was supposed to turn him in. I still couldn't tell you what it was that made me want to help him. It might have been the reasons he gave for being so heavily involved in a gang, or it might have been that I understood the position he was in. Regardless of the reason, I'd decided to help.

Hector's sister had dated one of the gang leaders. She was an innocent girl, and he'd joined the gang to protect her because she'd refused to give up the man she thought she loved, despite the danger their relationship put her in. She'd been shot to deliver a message to the leader of the gang, and perhaps to Hector, too, who had risen pretty high up in the organization because of his lethal skills. He'd been as feared as the gang leader on his side of town, because most people had heard of his ability to use a knife as more than a prop, and it was common knowledge that the teardrops on his face had been earned and weren't there as decoration.

I'd found evidence to prove his innocence on the trumped up charges, keeping him from having to either sever his gang ties or go to jail. In exchange, he'd helped me out whenever a case brought me to his side of town. We'd worked together regularly enough that over time, we'd talked about stuff other than skips and intel, and one night after a take down, I'd asked if he was interested in coming to work for me. He'd told me that I'd saved his life, so he owed it to me. I'd never seen it that way, but from the day he entered RangeMan, he'd been an asset in so many different ways that I knew I'd done the right thing in helping him.

I didn't realize at the time, but he was a self taught genius with electronics, able to repair, install, and debug nearly anything that had wires. It only took me a few weeks to recognize how beneficial it was to have someone with his skills installing security systems. Not only could he do the work more efficiently than anyone else, but he also had an uncanny ability to find the vulnerable points of entry to a house or store and modify the system to accommodate the weak places. I'd never asked how he'd developed that skill, figuring it was probably better I didn't know how he'd learned to scope out a house.

Continuing in Spanish, I began outlining what I needed to tell him. "_You're__ going to want to hear this one first_," I warned him. "_I want you to think it __through, and__ then let me know if you think it's something you can handle. I'll totally understand if you don't think you can do this, but I'll need your help in figuring out who should do it._"

His eyes narrowed as he listened to what I said, and I knew he was debating internally whether or not he would really tell me no.

"_Stephanie wants to go back in the field to pick up the low end skips for Vinnie. I talked her into working with a partner from RangeMan, but she refuses to use anyone from the core __team, because__ she thinks it would make the guys talk about her as though she were getting some kind of special treatment. She didn't want me to break up any of the current partners to free up someone for her, so that really only leaves you and Brett. When I gave her the __choice—"_

"_I'll do it_," he interrupted before I could tell him that she wanted to work with him.

I shook my head at his willingness to jump into this. "_You realize you would be working with someone who can't hear __you or__ the skip she's supposed to be picking up_," I pointed out.

"_I can be her ears_," he pledged.

"_But you don't speak English, and she doesn't understand Spanish, so she won't be able to read your lips._" I felt the need to dwell on the negative a little more.

"_No __matter._" He waved off that major concern just as quickly as Stephanie had.

"_How will you communicate?_" I asked, trying to help him see the difficulty of what he was in essence volunteering for.

"_I sign, she understands_," he informed me, before reversing it. "_She__ signs, I understand_."

Well, at least the two of them were on the same page. "_I don't know if she can do this, but I refuse to tell her she can't without letting her try,_" I finally got down to the heart of what I needed from him.

Hector put his closed fist over his heart and looked me in the eye. "_On__ my life, I'll keep her safe._"

I believed he would lay down his own life to keep her safe, and I began to wonder why. They'd had very little interaction over the years – primarily due to the language barrier and the fact that I figured she was a little scared of Hector. But this pledge wasn't being made to repay a debt to me; this was more personal, and before I let him leave this building with my woman, I needed to understand what was going on.

"_Why would you make that pledge?_" I asked suspiciously.

"_Estephania is__ just like Anastasia, my sister_," he told me, putting any worries I might have had to rest.

What I knew of his sister came flooding back. Ana had been hearing impaired and was the reason Hector knew sign language in the first place. She'd been headstrong and had loved a difficult man – ultimately paying the price for that – an incident Hector still blamed himself for. If he looked at Stephanie as being like his sister, I knew no one could watch over her any better. He lost Anastasia when she was shot as a human message and I knew he'd give up his own life before letting something like that happen to Steph.

Despite that acknowledgment, I still had to level with him. "_I'm asking you to work with her, to keep her safe, but you need to know how hard this is. Stephanie is…"_ Damn it, I couldn't even begin to say what she was. I needed to finish that sentence, but I didn't have the vocabulary to cover it. The pussy way out would be to say she was stubborn or to try to say she approached pick ups very differently than RangeMan and had a soft, sweet talk approach, but neither of those were what I wanted to say.

I must have paused too long, because he stood up and held his hand out for me to grasp his palm and cross our thumbs. To an outsider, it would look like we were about to arm wrestle, but I knew this was how his gang made a blood pledge.

"_I understand_," he assured me. "_I will treat her as my own blood, and I will remember she is your life now. No harm will come to her when she is with me_."

I tightened my grip to let him know I understood what he was saying and appreciated the lengths he was promising to go through to ensure her safety.

"Gracias," I replied, feeling it was completely inadequate.

"De nada," he assured me, letting go of my hand and stepping back.

Before I could tell him Stephanie would be in touch, he turned around and walked out. After he left, I was able to come up with numerous ways that this could go wrong between them, but I couldn't pull out now. If I was going be in Stephanie's life, then I had to accept that she needed to do this and give her the space to try. If it worked, I could be there to celebrate her success and independence, and if it didn't, I would be there to help her pick up the pieces, as well.

I went upstairs, wanting to see if Stephanie was awake yet, and if not, I had some ideas of how to bring her into the land of the living with a bang. Unfortunately, I couldn't put any of them into effect, because when I opened the door, she was awake, sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of CDs that had been in a box she'd packed from her apartment.

"What are you doing?" I asked when I was close enough for her to read my lips.

"I was sorting out my music to see if I can give any of it to Mary Lou or Valerie," she explained, pointing to two of the piles, before moving her finger to a third, larger stack and adding, "or throw them away because I don't think anybody would want or need it."

"Why are you getting rid of your music?" I asked without thinking.

She looked at me with an expression that clearly communicated she didn't appreciate that question. "Well, I could play the soundtrack to the movie _Titanic_ around here if you really want to listen to it, but somehow, I didn't think you'd be into hearing it by yourself." Her sarcasm finished the message her face hadn't conveyed.

"But some of these probably meant something to you," I explained, feeling like her approach of just getting rid of everything was a bit of an overreaction.

"Yes, and having them around but not being able to enjoy them is like putting a piece of Pineapple Upside Down cake in front of me with a fork in my hand, but then surrounding it by some sort of invisible force field that keeps me from being able to take a bite. It's just a cruel reminder of what I want and can't have," she said, proving something had set her off this morning and I needed to get myself up to speed fast.

"What happened?" I wondered, figuring I'd never know if I didn't ask.

"Nothing," she replied with a clipped tone.

I put my finger under her chin to force her to look back up so I could talk to her. When she looked at me, I called her on her act and said, "Bullshit. Now tell me what set this off."

I let her look down, figuring she needed a minute to get her thoughts together.

Just as I was about to lift her chin once more, she started talking. "The ringing is getting better."

"That's good news," I said slowly, picking up on the fact she didn't agree with me.

"It would be, except that nothing is taking its place. I'm not getting any muffled sounds, any occasional blips of noise that would indicate my hearing is ever going to come back," she confessed, letting me in on the truth. She was realizing her fear that even though her ears were healing, her hearing wasn't going to return.

Before I could say something trite to try and console her, she started again. "I got up this morning and made some toast, turning on the television out of habit. I was finished eating, dressed, and about to leave the apartment, when I noticed it had been on the whole time and I'd never noticed. I used to have it on so I could have a little background noise in my apartment and to occasionally hear some news that was outside of the 'Burg grapevine. But it had been on for over an hour, and I hadn't taken the time to sit and read the closed captioning, which meant it did me no good."

She set a CD down hard enough that a small piece of plastic broke off and flew across the floor. I made a mental note to pick it up when she finished talking so that she didn't step on it later and cut her foot. I knew better than to move right now, or I'd risk breaking the spell of her really telling me what was going on. As much as she accused me of being closed off, if it dealt with her feelings, Stephanie was as bad as I was about opening up.

"Sometimes, it doesn't bother me – I mean, I can't hear, so I don't realize what I'm missing, but since the ringing has begun to go away, I'm aware of how quiet it is. There's just nothingness around me, and I hate it. I can't turn on music or the television to make it go away. It's just…nothing…all the time, and it makes me feel lonely, even though I like being by myself." She stopped and forcefully wiped at her eyes, as though she were angry with the tear ducts that dared to act up while she was mad. "I feel so stupid saying it out loud, but I don't like the constant quiet. My brain can still hear things, memories of sound, but my ears just…can't."

And with that admission, a single round tear began its descent from the corner of her eye. It only made it to the top of her cheek before I couldn't stand the distance anymore. I kicked the CDs out of the way and fell to my knees in front of her to pull her into my arms. I could easily take yelling – hell, if she wanted to throw shit and watch it crash into pieces, I'd gladly provide her with fragile things to pitch against the wall – but the look of being completely lost, trying to keep a grip on her emotions with that fat tear betraying how torn up she was, pushed me past what I could handle. I had to ease this pain, but I knew of nothing that would do it. The truth was, she was facing the truth, and the truth wasn't something you could fight. It merely had to be accepted.

She grabbed me and held me with a fierceness that I could feel. With her face buried against my chest and away from my field of vision, she finally let go and cried. Her body racked with sobs that were sharp enough to leave what I knew would be scars in my heart. I'd never known a pain like this – watching the woman I loved grieving over the loss of her hearing. I wished there were words to take this away, or at least ease it in some way, but I had nothing.

Finally, I couldn't bear it anymore. My mouth opened, and I spoke in Spanish of how sorry I was that she was going through this. I told her of how I hated that I hadn't stopped her before she'd left that day to get Rex. If I'd just delayed her leaving by a matter of minutes, she might have missed this whole ordeal, and that knowledge hurt me more than anything else. There was a role I could have played in this, but I'd let her go anyway.

I don't know how long she cried and how long I held her, spouting off words she couldn't hear and wouldn't have understood, even if she'd heard them. But finally, Stephanie's body began to still, and I could feel her taking long, deep breaths, trying to pull herself back together. I waited for her to indicate she was okay before I relaxed my hold on her.

Stephanie pulled back with a red face, but I couldn't tell if it was from crying or embarrassment. "I'm sorry I ruined your shirt," she offered softly.

"I don't give a shit about the shirt," I told her honestly, still keeping her in my arms. "I'm sorry about all you are going through. I wish I could take it away or do something to help you."

I got a half smile at that. "You are doing something. Just letting me get it out of my system without trying to talk me out of it was big. I've been fighting giving into the tears for a while now, knowing they wouldn't do any good, but I think I'd just hit the point of needing to get them out so they'd leave me alone."

As strange as it sounded, I understood. While I didn't tend to break down and cry, I knew the idea of holding back emotions until the dam had enough pressure to burst, and then having to find an outlet to get it out. "Did it help?"

She sat back, forcing me to let her go, despite not wanting to. After a moment of true thought about my question, she replied, "Yeah, I think it did."

We both sat on the floor with the scattered CDs around us as the only evidence of what had just occurred. She broke the silence first and asked, "What brought you up here?"

I decided to skip the plans I'd been making on my way up and went with the other reason I'd been seeking her out. "I talked to Hector about partnering with you when you are ready to do some work for Vinnie, and he's more than glad to do it. He didn't seem to think communicating would be an issue, either, so it looks like whenever you want it, you have a partner."

"Wow," she replied, as though she were surprised by the news. I waited for her to say something else, but as the silence dragged on, I began to worry that maybe she hadn't really intended to do this and I might have overstepped.

Just before I asked if she was having second thoughts, she spoke up. "Can I swing by the bonds office now and see if there are any files Connie can give me? Maybe I could come back and run a surface search to get a plan together for going after them, and then I could talk to Hector about when we could round them up."

I liked that plan, especially the part where she did some research and came up with a plan. I knew she was much more likely to be both successful and safe if she had a well-developed plan to apprehend whoever Connie gave her.

"You can do anything you'd like," I assured her. "Do you want some company?"

"No, I think I can handle a trip to the bonds office. I'll pick up something to eat, and they'll gladly let me hang out there for a while. Then when I come back home, I'll be more myself, I promise," she said, as though afraid that I would be worried that she might melt down again.

"You don't need to be anything other than what you are," I assured her. "Don't go hide there because of this. I want to be the one you come to when you need to be held, when you need a safe place to let go of all the shit you've been carrying around. Don't run from me because you think I can't handle emotions. Just because I don't often show them doesn't mean I don't feel them," I told her, trying to soften my initial words so it didn't sound like a lecture.

"I know," she replied quickly. "But I don't like falling apart like that. I mean, I do feel a little better for some reason, but I don't like admitting that it became too much for me to handle. You're always so together, and I don't want you to think I'm some hysterical woman who can't get through the day without tears."

"I don't think that. I never could," I told her flatly. "I know you too well to ever misunderstand your actions like that. And don't forget, this impacts me, too. Seeing you hurt, knowing what you've lost... I know it isn't the same, but it still has an effect on me."

She touched my face, and I felt the comfort pass from her to me in a tangible way. Just a simple touch of her skin on mine, and I felt better. What I'd said was true. I may not have cried myself, but holding her as her emotions passed between us left me feeling as though I'd released a great deal of pent up anger at what she was being forced to endure.

She looked around at the mess and laughed. "I don't fall apart often, but when I do, I do it big, don't I?"

"I don't think you can take the credit for the fall out. I'm pretty sure I was the one that made this mess," I reminded her, glad to see her smiling and refusing to stay down, even if it would be understandable in light of what she was going through.

I stood up, still feeling the pull in my leg from the slowly healing injury, and then offered my hand to help her up, as well.

"You ready to head out?" I asked.

She looked around and said, "No, I'm going to clean this up and drop off some of the CDs that I know Mary Lou and Val would like, and then I'll swing by Vinnie's."

"Want me to help?" I offered, willing to get back on the floor and do anything I could.

"No, I think it's something I need to do," she replied confidently. "But thank you for earlier. I think I needed to get that out of the way so that I could move forward."

I cupped her face and smiled as her eyes closed and she leaned into my hand. I had a feeling she was absorbing the comfort I was offering just as I had done with her earlier.

We spoke for a few more minutes, before I headed back downstairs. I knew there would be bumps along the road like that, and I recognized that it hurt or she wouldn't have felt the need to let it out, but I couldn't help but feel good about how she'd let me comfort her. I'd watched her shut her emotions down as expertly as any soldier could when she was around Joe, but with me, she let them out.

I didn't fear her ever going back to the cop, and since he was married, I didn't worry about him trying to come between us, but I guess there had been a little seed of doubt that because of their long history, he might know her better than I do and perhaps would have been able to handle this whole situation better. But after seeing her let go and show me how she truly felt instead of bottling it away from me, I knew we might not have the same history as she and Morelli, but what we had was even better.

We had a future.

_A/N: After dropping away last week I wanted to warn everyone that I'm not posting again this week because of the Thanksgiving holiday. I'll be back in my office next Tuesday and will post again then. Sorry for another posting pause, but I'm looking forward to some time away from work and with my family. I hope you all have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving._


	15. Winning Bets and Celebrating

_JE deserves all the credit for the characters below. I am just having my wicked way with them._

_Jenny (JenRar) I still don't have the words to adequately thank you for your work as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 15 - Winning Bets and Celebrating**

I knew today was going to be a trying day as soon as I stepped out of my office and saw Stephanie hunkered down in her cubicle. My first clue was that she was in a RangeMan uniform – head to toe black and her stun gun on her belt in a little holster I'd never seen her carry before. I would have liked to have seen a real gun on there, as well, but had to admit just the stun gun was a major step in the right direction.

She was scribbling notes in a folder I knew had come from Connie, and Hector was leaning on the edge of her cubicle. Most likely, she hadn't noticed her partner standing there, or she would have acknowledged him.

I smiled when Hector waited for her to stop writing, and then moved over to put his hand on her desk. She swung around, clearly not expecting to see anyone standing there, but she didn't really jump the way she used to when I'd stand behind her and say her name. I saw each of their mouths move, but couldn't hear them from the distance I was standing away. Both of their brows furrowed, and then they began to move their hands, signing to each other as though they'd always talked this way.

When they both laughed, I knew they were going to be all right, so I left my door open, but turned to walk back into my office. I didn't want her to catch me watching them. If she felt ready to hit the streets, I wasn't going to stand in her way, no matter how much I wanted to.

I only had to pretend to work for a couple of minutes before I saw them standing in my doorway, ready to leave.

"We're heading out. I've got a couple of skips I want to try and pick up, and then Hector wants me to ride with him to check on a security system that has been sending out false alarms," she informed me.

I was already aware of the schedule, but I was glad she was trying to keep me in the loop regarding her activity.

"Don't go crazy," I warned her with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah," she laughed. "And I won't get shot."

The last couple of words slurred together slightly. I was noticing that more and more in her speech and had asked Bobby about it. He'd told me it was completely normal. Without being able to hear her own voice, it was hard to keep it as clear as it had been. He suggested that a little time with a speech therapist would help her with that, but I hadn't brought it up yet. I felt like she'd been making so many accommodations lately that telling her she needed to work on something else felt cruel. Bobby agreed it could wait, at least until we got word from her doctor regarding the permanence of her hearing loss. I think we both had a feeling that her current state was the way it would be indefinitely, but neither one of us wanted to say it aloud.

They left, and I sat in my chair, staring at the door where they'd been standing and wondering how in the hell I was going to make it through the day without checking on her.

Before I could begin planning an undercover op to shadow them under the guise of supervising two of my staff members, Lester appeared in the doorway. "Hey, cuz. Got a minute?"

I nodded and moved some papers on my desk, trying to make it look like I'd been working on something covert, so he wouldn't suspect I'd been basically day dreaming at my desk. "What's up?"

"Two things," he began, holding up a single finger. "First, none of the guys like the idea of Stephanie out on the streets picking up skips. Too damn many things can go wrong for her a good day, and without her hearing, that number just grows exponentially. But when you factor in her working with Hector, they seem to chill a bit. I think everybody feels that if Hector takes a shine to Stephanie and agrees to watch over her, then she couldn't possibly be in better hands, so in many ways, she might be safer than she was out there on her own before her accident. I think as long as Hector agrees to stick with her, there won't be any trouble from the guys."

"Good to know," I replied. I wasn't going to pull the plug on it regardless of what they thought, but it was nice to know that I didn't need to watch my back in the office in case somebody decided I needed to be taught a lesson about not taking care of Stephanie.

Lester held up two fingers, reminding me there was another reason for his appearance in my office. "A group of us are going to hit Intensity tonight, and I wondered if we could invite Stephanie."

"Why are you asking me?" I wondered, knowing he'd never bothered to ask before.

"Well, it is a dance club, and even though I'm sure I've got moves smooth enough to compensate for the lack of music to guide her, I still wasn't sure if the invitation might upset her more than it would make her happy," he explained.

I thought about it for a minute and couldn't begin to guess how she'd react. Finally, I gave up predicting her thought process and told him, "You'll have to ask her to know for sure, but if she wants to go, I'll be glad to come along, too." I hadn't tried dancing with Stephanie, because it seemed like a strange thing to do with someone who couldn't hear, but past history had told me that she was an excellent dancer and she never struggled to follow my lead. I had a feeling with the right song, we could easily move together.

I found myself hoping she would say yes and finally decided to stack the deck in my favor. "On second thought, how about you let me ask her, and if she's willing to go, we'll meet you guys there around 2200?"

"Will do," he agreed with a smile. For all the shit I'd given him growing up and since he came to work for me, my cousin was a solid guy, and I was damn lucky to have him on my team.

He left me to my thoughts while I tried to figure out exactly how to broach the subject of us going to a club. I found the strength to make myself do some work, prepping a few sales proposals to send out to prospective clients and making some client calls, too. Before I knew it, several hours had passed and some noise in the control room alerted me that something had the guys' interest.

I set down the proposal I was rereading and listened to Woody tell the men that Stephanie was back with Hector. Then he said, "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never believe it."

"What?" Lester asked, unable to have something happen around him that he wasn't a part of.

"They got out of his Navigator and had some kind of sign language conversation, and then Hector shook his head and started walking away. He stopped a few feet away from her, and she ran toward him, jumping on his back. The elevator will be here in a minute, where I would assume Steph is still getting a piggy back ride from Hector. I never thought I'd see the day that he'd let a woman hang on him like that, and smile all the while," Woody explained.

I stood up and stepped to the doorway of my office, where I could see the elevator above the half cubicles lining the main room. Sure enough, when the door opened, Hector came out, carrying Stephanie on his back. He bypassed the guys, who were all asking him why he was carrying her, and walked straight to my office, instead.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure as to who I should ask about the grin on both their faces.

Stephanie couldn't help herself and began talking. "Hector is giving me a ride, because he lost a bet while we were picking up skips."

I looked at Hector and asked, "_What bet?_"

Steph couldn't understand my question, but kept talking, probably thinking the answer I was looking for would be in her story somewhere. "We were picking up Marshall Thompson at his mother's house on the edge of the 'Burg. He was wanted for assault with a deadly weapon, so Hector wanted me to stand aside and let him bring Marshall in, because he thought there was too much of a chance that I'd get hurt. I bet him that I could get Marshall to cuff himself and walk to the SUV without having to do any roughing up, and Hector didn't believe me. Finally, we bet that if I could do it within ten seconds, Hector would carry me up here on his back, and if I couldn't do it, I would step aside and never question him again."

"How did you get a skip to put the cuffs on himself and walk out to the truck, Babe?" I asked, completely sucked into the joy on her face and hanging on every word.

"Marshall was a year ahead of me in school and had the biggest crush on Valerie. I spent a lot of time as a kid sharing a box of doughnuts on the front porch when my sister refused to come out and see him. I was usually the one that had to tell him she was blowing him off, so I knew he had a thing for jelly-filled doughnuts. According to the police report, he was arrested for breaking the glass door at the Dunkin Doughnuts when they refused to serve him at 8:45," she explained, as though the answers I needed were somehow in those obscure details.

I stayed quiet while Hector set her down on the floor and stood there watching her while she picked up her story once more. "Dunkin Doughnuts doesn't close until 9:00, so I could understand why he was upset and took the tire iron to the door. The manager of the store said he refused to allow Marshall back into his shop because of the incident and I knew he preferred their doughnuts to the ones at the Tasty Pasty which meant he had no way to feed his sugar addiction. So I stopped by the bakery and got a jelly-filled, and then carried it up to the door. When he answered, I gave him the cuffs and told him he could eat the doughnut on the way to the cop shop, but he had to come with us now.

"Marshall gladly slapped the metal on his wrists, and I led him to the truck with the doughnut in my hands. As soon as he got in and buckled his seat belt, I handed him the doughnut and shut the door. We had to sit in the parking lot while he finished it, but when it was all gone, we led him in and Robin processed him quickly so Hector could pay up." As she said the last few words, she signed them, too, so Hector knew he was being spoken of.

He signed something to her that made her laugh out loud, and when she sighed in return, he found her just as funny. Then the man who I considered the coldest, hardest person on staff hugged my woman and kissed her cheek, before calling "adios" over his shoulder for me and leaving us alone.

Stephanie was still smiling when it was just the two of us, and since I was a sucker for all things Plum, I moved closer to her to state the obvious. "You had a good day today."

"I did," she replied happily. "I was a little nervous, but having Hector with me made me feel much better about not being able to hear. We talked for a while about how to handle different situations, and then we just jumped in and did it. I even went on a client call, which turned out to be easy. He spent a little time explaining what he was doing, and I helped to test some wires. I translated everything he signed to me to the lady that answered the door, and when we were finished, he said we made a good team."

"It sounds like you do," I agreed with her, amazed at how Hector had worked with her. He was notorious for only wanting to work alone and had all but declared he would resign before he'd work with more than an occasional partner.

Despite my arms being around her, she was all but bouncing on her toes, struggling to stay still. "You've got a little extra energy there, Babe," I pointed out the obvious, so glad today had worked out like this for her.

"I do," she agreed with my comment about her energy. "Any ideas on how I can burn a little off?"

Damn, this woman got to me in ways I couldn't understand. "I can think of quite a few," I admitted, watching her eyes darken at the implication that we could move this conversation upstairs and celebrate her first day back at work.

Instead, I surprised her by saying, "The guys are going to Intensity tonight and wondered if we would come, too."

"You want to take me to a dance club?" she asked, as though what she thought I'd said and what I'd intended couldn't be the same thing.

"That's right," I said, keeping my reply simple.

Her forehead wrinkled, and she finally looked up to ask, "Why?"

I tightened my hold around her waist, keeping her close to me, and answered, "Because I like dancing with you."

"But I can't dance anymore," she stated, her voice losing the excitement it had held earlier.

"I disagree," I threw out there, knowing how difficult it was for her to face down a challenge.

Her eyes narrowed, before she replied, "You can disagree all you want to, but if I can't hear the music, then I can't dance to it."

"There was no music playing in the apartment last night," I jumped in to argue. "But you had no trouble finding my rhythm and keeping up with me."

Her face began to blush as she recalled what we were doing to establish the rhythm I was referring to. "Sex and dancing are two different things."

"True," I conceded, "but you have always been able to follow my lead, and for all we know, between the crowd on the floor, the vibrations of the music, and how closely we'll be pressed against each other, you might enjoy it."

She pulled the corner of her mouth between her teeth while she considered what I was saying. "If we tried it and I couldn't keep up, would you let me leave and not force me to stay and keep trying?"

I waited until I was positive I had her full attention to respond. "When have I ever forced you to do something you didn't want to do?"

Her head tilted down a little as a subconscious sign of submission. "You haven't," she admitted.

I lifted her chin with my finger and finished the thought. "And I never will. If you aren't comfortable, then we'll leave."

She thought for another minute, and finally agreed. "Okay, let's give it a shot."

I was so impressed by the strength she had to step out of her comfort zone and try something, knowing there was an equal chance it might not work, but being willing to try it anyway because it was something she wanted to do.

"Proud of you, Babe," I told her, knowing it didn't do justice to how I felt, but feeling the need to at least acknowledge that much.

She stretched up to kiss my cheek, and then spun out of my grasp, telling me she was going to fill out the paperwork on the skips, since they were technically being processed through RangeMan now and the slave driver boss here required a complete file on every pick up.

I let her go, and then picked up my cell phone to talk to Hector.

As soon as he answered, I switched to Spanish and asked, "_How did it really go today_?"

"_Good_."

His one word answer wasn't helpful.

"_Any concerns about her continuing to round up skips_?" I pushed to get more information.

"_Yes, but I don't think it's a good idea to just tell her she can't do it_," he advised, knowing Stephanie well enough to admit that would only cause her to dig in her heels, insisting she be allowed to do it.

"_Do you have any suggestions for how to make her safer?_" I asked, hoping he could offer something more than he was.

He paused, and then said, "_We could use her to review all the skip files so that if they are from her side of town, she can suggest how we go after them. She's also really good with clients. I want to take her out with me more often. She can learn to install and repair the systems, and the clients would probably appreciate seeing her more than __me on their__ doorstep._"

"_Do you think she'll go for it?_" I asked, wishing I had a crystal ball that had the answer to that question.

He made a non-committal sound, before saying, "_I'll bring her out a little __every day__. If she sees she can do it, she might choose it over going after the bad guys in time_."

"_Thanks for your help_," I told him. Despite his lack of an answer regarding the future, I still appreciated him going with Stephanie and watching over her so that she could figure out what she wanted to do.

"_I do it for her_," he reminded me before hanging up.

I was able to work for the rest of day without worry, since Stephanie was in the building, and only when I got hungry did I realize it was time to call it a day. When I got upstairs, Stephanie was literally throwing clothes out of the closet onto the bed, making grumbling sounds.

I touched her elbow with my hand, and she spun around with her hand over her heart. "Carlos, you scared me," she told me, sounding slightly breathless.

I was torn between feeling badly for sneaking up on her and feeling that certain rush every time she used my given name. When I'd first asked her to begin calling me Carlos, she'd used it intermittently, often using Ranger, instead. But the last day or two, she'd seemed to be remembering it every time. I couldn't deny that I loved the thought of her knowing the real me well enough that she was finally comfortable using my birth name instead of the one I used on the streets.

I rubbed my closed fist over my heart as the sign for an apology, and she waved me off, not holding a grudge. "What's the problem?" I asked, before glancing back over to the mountain of clothes on the bed.

"I don't know what to wear," she admitted, her frustration coming through loud and clear.

I glanced at what I assumed was her reject pile and saw quite a few dresses I'd love to see on her, not sure what was wrong with any of them. I ran my hand over the top of the pile and pulled out a dress that was a dark shade of blue. It had thin straps at the top, and based on how short it seemed, I had a feeling it would allow her legs plenty of room to move.

"How about this one?" I offered.

She shrugged and took the dress from my hand to hold it up against her body. I thought the color made her eyes stand out, and I could see how it would frame her body and knew it would be look damn good on her.

She took a deep breath and finally said, "All right, I'll give it try."

I was about to ask why she was struggling so much with what to wear, since she had so many good options, but she turned around and went into the bathroom to begin the process of getting ready.

I called Ella about dinner, and then sat down to read the newspaper while I waited. I didn't see the point in showering before going to the club, since I hadn't really done anything but sit at my desk, and I knew if Stephanie was able to dance with me, I'd need a shower after we got home anyway.

I was halfway through the world news section, reading between the lines of what the associated press reported to see what they weren't disclosing, didn't know, or weren't allowed to print so that I could stay on top of the real picture of world affairs. Ella let herself in, pushing her cart with a few covered dishes on it for our dinner. She stopped and spoke to me briefly, before moving on to her work.

I couldn't help but smile when she glanced in the bedroom and saw the pile of clothes. After shaking her head with a grin on her face, she dutifully went in and re-hung everything Stephanie had flung out so carelessly. As she passed back through the living room, she called out, "Have a good time out tonight."

"How did you know we were going somewhere?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Only a woman nervous about how she looks would go through that many wardrobe choices. And Stephanie wouldn't be nervous if you two were just sitting at home tonight," she pointed out easily.

I thanked her for cleaning it up and complimented the smell of the food she'd brought in, considering myself damn lucky to have an aunt willing to work here and capable of handling so much so well. Ella smiled once more, before pushing her cart back out of the apartment and leaving me to my paper once more.

Stephanie managed to come out in my robe long enough to eat, before barricading herself once more in the bathroom to finish getting ready. I wanted to object that some brides spent less time on their appearance, but I knew she was focusing so much on her looks out of nervousness that tonight might not go well and feeling the need to be able to control at least some element of the evening.

I changed my clothes to a pair of black jeans, a little more fitted than Stephanie had seen me wear before, and tucked in a white tank top wife beater, before pulling a scarlet shirt on top, which I left unbuttoned. Around my neck, I put on a braided leather necklace and threw in a diamond stud for good measure. If Stephanie was going to spend this kind of time on her presentation, then I needed to put in a little effort to catch her eye, as well.

I was just tying my hair back with a black strip of leather, when the bathroom door opened to reveal the sexiest woman alive. She'd curled her hair, taking away the slightly crazy look it usually had and replaced it with loose flowing curls that framed her face and made me want to run my fingers through it without worrying about pulling tangles like I usually did. Her make-up was understated by her standards, but I had no doubt she'd crafted it intentionally that way. The dress wasn't skin tight, but when she moved, it sparkled and shined, warning me that she was going to be drawing all kinds of attention to herself tonight and I needed to be prepared. I glanced at my gun safe and wondered if the two I had strapped on would be enough.

She had on a pair of heels that brought out the muscles in her calves. They weren't so high that I worried for her safety, which told me she was going dressed to dance all night if it were possible.

I met her eyes, and we stood there taking each other in, before she broke the silence to say, "I think together we're going to make quite an impression tonight."

I liked the way her eyes were taking in my appearance, so I stood there, giving her time to check me out and taking advantage of her distraction to do the same thing to her.

I stalked over to her and kissed her lips, keeping it soft, but trying to let her know we would be back here later tonight when my kisses wouldn't be as reserved. When I pulled back, she pressed her lips against each other, before her tongue slipped to moisten them. I nearly lost my control, wanting to get rid of the clothes we'd both just gone through the trouble of putting on, just from the view of the tip of her tongue. But I knew tonight was important – on several levels – so I fisted my hands until my knuckles cracked to get a grip on myself, and then held out my elbow to her as an invitation to walk with me to the garage.

She slipped her hand over my arm and smiled up at me. "We'll try it, but you promise we'll leave if it doesn't work?"

I knew she was nervous, so I didn't hold her need for reassurance against her. "I promise," I said solemnly. My words didn't seem to relax her any, so I added, "And if we can't dance at the club, we'll come back here, where we know there aren't any problems finding our rhythm and moving together."

She blushed at little, but she didn't back away from what I was implying. We took a few steps, before she spoke up, surprising me. "I think we'll end up doing that even if I can dance. Just be sure no matter how long the night gets that you save enough energy for a little dancing up here later."

I laughed out loud at her joke that there was a snowball's chance in hell that my energy would run out before hers would. Still, I appreciated the fact that she was making light of her worries for the evening.

I knew for most couples, something as simple as going out to a club was a no brainer. They got dressed up, they went out, they came back home. I found myself praying that this would work so that Stephanie could reclaim that piece of her life from before the accident. But even if it didn't, I knew we would be facing it together, and I now felt very confident that there wasn't a challenge out there that we couldn't overcome.


	16. Bring it On

_The characters below are not mine. JE deserves all the credit._

_Jenny (JenRar) you deserve the credit for any clarity of thought or well captured sections as the beta on this story. Thank you for all your hard work._

**Chapter 16 – Bring it On**

Stephanie was completely still, unnervingly so, as we drove to Intensity. I'd never seen her like this and wondered if I should be worried about her being so nervous, she was at the point of it shutting down the fidgeting that was her usual tell for nerves.

I parked the Turbo at the back of the lot, near the fleet of black vehicles that I knew were mine, refusing to allow the valet a chance to hold the keys for a car that held enough weapons to arm a small militia.

I got out, amazed that Stephanie was still sitting there, blankly staring out the window, and jogged to her side to open the door slowly, in case she was leaning against it. Her head jerked up when the outside air blew in, and she looked up at me, her face registering shock that it was time to go in.

I held out my hand, not bothering to talk, knowing that more assurances that everything would be okay were useless right now. She would either be able to do this, or she wouldn't, and until we knew one way or the other, there was no point in discussing it.

We moved quickly from the parking lot to the entrance. I looked around, cataloging any potential areas for threats, and made a few mental notes about the lighting of the parking lot and few areas of landscaping that were creating areas for possible trouble more so than adding to the beauty of the club. If this night went well, I might consider calling the owner to talk about their security. The bouncer was more of a doorman than anything else, as he stood aside and opened the entrance to us upon our arrival, never bothering to question the obvious bulge at my hip.

I hadn't been in Intensity before, but I'd heard that it was a hot spot and could easily see why. It was what I thought of as an old school dance club, with massive speakers mounted everywhere, making the noise level nearly deafening. I grimaced at that thought, wondering how long it would take me to rid those kinds of thoughtless references to hearing loss from my vocabulary.

The dance floor was crowded with a diverse group of dancers, mixed by skill level and rating, as well. The bar was a typical meat market, with women on stools being surrounded by men hoping for a chance to leave with a trophy on their arm for the night.

I tightened my grip on Stephanie's hand and raised an eyebrow to ask if she was all right so far.

"It's surreal," she surprised me by responding.

"What?" I yelled above the crowd, realizing how ridiculous it was to try and talk loud for her benefit.

"I can feel the noise," she explained, putting her hand on her chest where I could feel the thumping of the base, as well, "but I can't hear it. My ears aren't picking up on anything like they used to, but I still feel like I'm surrounded by sound." She finally gave up on finding the right words and said, "I can't explain it, but it isn't at all what I was expecting."

"Good or bad?" I wondered, pulling us to the side so another couple could make their way over to the bar.

Her eyes went back and forth, as though she were weighing both sides. "Good – for now."

I smiled, encouraged that she seemed to be relaxing a little, and then did a quick pass over the crowd, looking for some of the guys. I caught a few of them on the dance floor, and then saw Tank's head towering above the horde at the back wall, where a few of the guys were drinking and sitting out this particular song.

I pulled Stephanie along with me as we wove through the sea of bodies and made our way to the RangeMan contingent. Lester jumped up when we got close and met us just shy of the table to pull Stephanie to him, lifting her feet from the floor and spinning her around. When he set her down and she looked at him, he said, "I'm so glad you came!" There was no denying his sincerity.

Steph seemed a little embarrassed at his display of joy and came back with, "Well, if this goes poorly, keep in mind you're the one I'm going to be pissed off with."

Lester's smile faltered for a moment before he puffed up again and told her, "I can take it, but it's not going to be a problem. You'll be fine."

She smiled at him, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. At that moment, a tall blonde walked by, and Lester excused himself to follow her to the dance floor.

I pulled Steph to me and asked, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and said, "I couldn't understand Lester's answer, but I decided he seemed happy, so I didn't want to ask him to repeat it."

"Did you have trouble seeing him?" I wondered, knowing the house lights were low to make the mood more inviting.

She shrugged. "I didn't think so. I think I'm just distracted by everything, so it's harder to concentrate."

I pulled her over and sat down in the chair Lester had vacated, maneuvering Stephanie to sit across my lap. The guys were in rare form, checking out the women and making comments; frankly, I was relieved Stephanie couldn't hear. She thought the world of these guys, and I'd hate for their image to be tarnished because of one night of acting like dogs.

The music switched, and Stephanie turned her head to face me. "New song?"

I nodded that it was, curious how she knew.

Luckily, she told me, "I could feel a shift in the vibrations." She paused, like she was trying to figure something out, and guessed, "It's a slow song."

"That's right," I marveled, amazed at what she could figure out without hearing it.

Stephanie laughed. "I could feel the tempo was slower, but I cheated and looked at the dancers, too."

I loved her honestly and was glad to see her relaxing a little, getting her bearings about being in such a different atmosphere. I decided to push her a little and asked, "Would you like to try dancing?"

Her face fell a little as she glanced over the crowd, and then looked back at me. "Get us far enough into the crowd that the guys can't see me," she said, drawing on that wellspring of courage and strength that I so admired.

She stood up, and I took her hand in mine to find us a place hidden enough that she would let go of her fear of being laughed at, but still in the mix enough that she would know she was the same as everybody else on the dance floor. Once I found a spot, I turned around and drew her into my arms, knowing how much I loved the feel of her against me.

She put one arm around my neck, but the other she moved so that her palm was flat against my chest. I'd noticed her doing that pretty often and knew that she liked to be able to feel the vibrations in my chest when I made noise, so I understood the position.

I put one hand on her hip, just above her rounded ass, letting the other run up her back with my fingers splayed wide to touch as much of her as possible.

I refused to just stand there and sway with no rhythm, despite it being a simple thing that would have counted as dancing. That wasn't how our bodies moved together, and I wasn't going to take the coward's way out. Instead, I slipped my foot between hers so that my thigh was between her legs, and then rolled my hips against hers. I felt her torso expand with a sudden intake of breath at my brazen move, just before she pressed her hips back in return, following my lead.

For the next two minutes, we moved together as one, and the practice we'd done at night of allowing our bodies to speak when our voices could not manifested itself perfectly on the dance floor. I could hear the music and moved us in time with it, not the least bit surprised when Stephanie flawlessly followed my lead.

When the music changed again, Stephanie stiffened, obviously picking up on the new pulse around her, but she made no move to walk away.

I put my bent index finger under her chin to draw her face up to see mine. "Proud of you, Babe."

"Think you can dance to something a little faster," she challenged me, knowing I wouldn't refuse to try.

We were already positioned as close as we could be with our clothes still in place, so I began to move again. I'd watched Stephanie woo many skips to the dance floor and show off the moves she obviously had. I'd asked about it once, and she'd confided her mother forced her to take ballroom dance lessons as a little girl so she'd be able to appropriately waltz at her wedding one day. She'd said she hated the waltz, but she loved the Latin dances she'd learned.

As soon as that memory crossed my mind, I put an inch of space between us and began to pull out my own long unused moves from my childhood when my parents had forced all of us kids to learn how to salsa, rumba, and mambo. She recognized what I was doing and fell in step with me right away. There was never a second's hesitation, even when I spun her away, and then danced my way around her, waiting as she made a trip of her own around my back.

As soon as I pulled her to me once more, I saw her eyes were glittering with such joy and life that I laughed and spun her around again. There was no denying that I was here with the sexiest woman in the joint, and seeing her move that body with such control and grace made me wish there was a subtle way to get us out of here – soon.

When the song shifted again, Stephanie looked up at me, searching for a clue about what was next. I dipped her back over my arm and ran my free hand up her side, stopping to caress her neck and kiss her lips slowly. I blame the feel of her in my arms for the sound that I made, but honestly, no red blooded male could have controlled himself with Stephanie draped over him like she was me, giving the appearance of being there for my feasting.

Her head snapped up and she was laughing, so I pulled her back upright and waited for an explanation.

"You moaned," she commented, obviously picking up on the rumble my sound of appreciation had made.

I let my eyes rake down her body and back up to her face, before saying, "I did."

"How about a drink," she offered, changing the subject so quickly, I knew my face registered my surprise, which only seemed to amuse her more.

If she wanted a drink, then she was planning on sticking around for a while. My libido didn't care for that idea, but my heart was thrilled to know she was having a good time and didn't want to rush out.

We made our way to the tables once more, where a few of the guys sitting out this song were seated. I left Stephanie sitting beside Bobby, to get us both something to drink. I didn't have any trouble getting up to the bar. I put on my blank face and completely ignored the women trying to get my attention.

After successfully getting a couple of beers and a bottle of water, I made my way back over and realized immediately that Stephanie wasn't where I'd left here. I set the drinks down on a table and smacked Tank's arm, perhaps a little harder than necessary, to get his attention.

"What?" he said, rubbing the muscle where my fist had made contact. "I know it's been a long time since you went to a club for fun, but it's still too early to start a bar fight."

"Where in the hell is Stephanie?" I asked, not willing to banter with him at the moment.

Tank smiled at me. Not in the "I'm happy to see you are worried about her" way, but with more of an "I'm laughing at you and how much of a sap you are over this woman" type expression. The difference was subtle, but I'd had years of experience reading his face, and I could make it out clearly.

He lifted his large hand and pointed to the dance floor, causing my head to spin. Standing near the edge of the undulating bodies were Stephanie and Bobby. The song was somewhere between slow and fast, which would usually make it more difficult to dance to, but Bobby was leading her, and she never faltered in following him. There was a respectable amount of space between their bodies, but I still didn't like it when their hips rolled at the same time.

Tank put his hand on my forearm and said, "Easy, Rangeman. They're just dancing."

I looked back at Tank, wanting to tell him that "just dancing" didn't need to include emulating having sex, but when I saw how serious he was, I knew I had to stay put, no matter how hard it was to watch. On the one hand, I had a terrific view of my woman, and from this distance, I could fully appreciate how good she looked and how smoothly she moved. But there was no denying the jealous feelings that cropped up every time Bobby shifted his hands on her body. I knew by his usual standard, he was treating her gently and was being very respectful, but I still didn't like it.

Fortunately, when the song ended, Stephanie looked in my direction, and I lifted my beer bottle in her direction. She turned back to thank Bobby for the dance, and then kept her eyes on mine as she swayed her hips and gave me a sultry vision coming toward me. Despite the empty chairs, she sat down across my lap, not making apology or asking permission. Then she took the bottle from my hand and moved it to her mouth to take a long drink.

"Help yourself," I told her when she looked back to me, as though challenging me to complain about what she'd done.

"Hey, Beautiful," Lester spoke as he approached her, but she didn't see him or respond until he touched her shoulder and held out his hand, effectively asking her to dance with him.

I wanted to object, but decided that would be a mistake, so I squeezed her hip where my hand had been resting, and then dropped my arm so she could stand up easily. Lester had the good sense to move her beyond the first row of bodies, making it more difficult to see how they were moving. I did catch a glimpse of her every so often when he turned her around or stepped back slightly. Each time, the transparency of her emotions clearly written on her face made it obvious she was having a good time, and I knew this was exactly what she needed.

I took a few deep breaths and managed to get my emotions under control, just watching the crowd and how Stephanie shined as a part of it.

I turned away from the dance floor when Zip burst out laughing. I asked what he'd found so funny, and he explained, "I think Lester was forgetting who he was dancing with for a minute there, because Stephanie just told him if he didn't get his hands off her ass, she was going to have you remove them for her."

I laughed at her not thinking twice about using my name to threaten Les and took a long draw from my beer, before setting the empty bottle on the table and moving through the crowd to get back to my woman.

"You can leave now," I informed Lester, ignoring his complaint that it wasn't fair I was just stepping in and interrupting his fun, but he was smart enough to move away just the same.

"Babe," I said, pulling her back against my body and relaxing as soon as the distance between us evaporated. "Do I need to help remove someone's hands from their body?"

She laughed then and had to stop dancing in order to pull herself together. "I see I need to have a chat with Zip about not turning his skills on me."

I shook my head no and confessed, "I was glad to have an excuse to cut in."

For the next two and a half hours, I danced with Stephanie or shared her with one of the men, who each wanted a turn on the big floor with her. Her confidence was flying high, and that on top of her natural beauty and that damn hot dress had nearly every eye in the joint falling on her at some point.

Only one fool was dumb enough to try and enter our area of tables to ask her for a dance. He walked through where Cal and Hal were debating the merits of a red head at the bar and working up a wager to see who would get her number first. But the second he passed between them, the joking ceased and they stood up and closed ranks behind him, just as Zip and Vince stood up in front of him, boxing him in so he couldn't move.

Stephanie watched what they were doing with curiosity and turned to ask me if that was a skip RangeMan needed to haul in.

I laughed, and then told her the truth. "No, I think he was just a poor sap that thought he was going to ask you to dance."

I expected her to fuss about us scaring the stranger, but she seemed to find it more humorous than anything else and went back to leaning against me without further questions.

After the guys turned the poor fool away, I looked around at the group assembled around me and remembered when I'd first started RangeMan, why I'd been so insistent on getting only ex-military men as my staff. There was a brotherhood among us, a sense of belonging and dedication to a cause that couldn't be explained or easily taught to civilians. But watching them protect my woman, as though she were their own, I realized that the loyalty I'd always assumed they had for me was really just an illusion.

Sure, they were committed to their jobs, to the group they lived and worked with, and they respected me and followed my orders, which was more than most men in similar leadership positions could claim. But their true unyielding, never-wavering allegiance was actually to the woman on my lap. She was the thing that unified us past job descriptions and organizational hierarchy. She was the thing that turned us from a group of men with a common past into a family of sorts, determined to have a common future that involved her in some way.

As soon as I realized that, I felt the low level hum of jealousy that had been threatening to build all night fade away. I didn't need to worry anymore. I trusted Stephanie explicitly, but more than that, I realized the men would rather chop off their own balls than do something that would hurt her.

Cal seemed to be the lucky guy with the red head and came over to bump fists with Hal and tell Steph goodnight. One by one, the guys thinned out, either leaving with a flavor of the night on their arm, or admitting defeat and heading back to Haywood. Just a few were left, and they seemed occupied on the dance floor, so I moved my shoulder to get Stephanie's attention once more.

"Are you ready to head home, or do you have another dance in you?" I asked, giving her the power to decide what would happen next.

She looked back out at the dance floor, and then back to me to say, "I'm beat. I think I've danced more tonight than I had in the last few months all rolled together. Let's go home."

Hearing her refer to the apartment on seven as home warmed me. "I like that idea," I agreed, moving so she would stand up first so we could make our way back out to the car.

We made our way silently to Haywood, with me easily slipping into my zone for the ten minute drive. By the time we got upstairs, I was feeling a little strain on my leg and was glad she'd agreed to call it a night. It was mostly healed, but the soreness would return if I overtaxed it, and dancing pulled the muscles in ways that the usual running and sparring did not.

Stephanie kicked off her shoes as soon as we entered the apartment and seemed so relaxed just from that act alone. "I need a shower," she commented, as though she were just talking to herself.

I decided to ignore it in case it was one of those thoughts spoken aloud that she seemed to get so worked up over.

I watched her walk away, and then stopped in my tracks when her blue dress came flying back through the doorway, landing on the floor near my feet. I stood there for a minute, assuming that was an invitation and wondering if she was going to try and hit me with anything else.

I wasn't disappointed when a strapless bra cut through the air, landing just shy of the crumpled dress. I swallowed hard as the image of Stephanie standing just beyond the door way in nothing but her panties entered my thoughts.

Before I could make my feet move, the panties in question made an appearance, meaning Stephanie was naked. I rebooted the connections in my brain to walk once more and heard the shower come on just as I stepped into the bedroom.

Stephanie was leaning in the shower with her back to the door, checking the temperature of the water. My eyes couldn't move from the view as my hands tore at my clothes, trying to get them off as quickly as possible.

Just before she stepped in, I moved behind her and spun her around. I knew my sudden appearance had probably surprised her, but the smile on her face when I saw her let me know she wasn't holding a grudge.

"I'm glad you finally got the message," she teased me.

"I got it... I just didn't like rushing through such eloquent invitations," I countered. "I wanted to see how far you were going to take it.

She giggled at me and pressed her naked body against mine to reply, "I plan on taking it all the way, Carlos."

I growled at the implication and pushed her backward into the shower.

"I love it when you do that," she told me.

"You like it when I take charge?" I asked, wanting to be sure what she was commenting on.

She shook her head no, and I pulled back a little. "I like it when you make sounds like that. I can feel it between us, and I know you're turned on to the point that your control is gone enough for you to make a little noise." Her face was slightly pink, but she wasn't letting her slight embarrassment get in the way of her admission.

The water was moving down our bodies, warming us both and serving to energize us, instead of soothing us for sleep.

"That was just a little growl," I explained to her, "but I'll bet if you put your mind to it, you can pull a much bigger noise than that from me."

Her eyes narrowed, recognizing the trap I was baiting for her. She lifted her hand and let just the nail of her index finger touch my shoulder, before making its way down my chest. It wasn't hard enough to scratch, but there was enough contact to leave a little sting behind it, only heightening my arousal. Considering what she could do with just a single finger, I might have worried about what she was capable of with her entire body.

She looked down, and then gave me a sexy smile. "I hope the guys saw you talking tonight at the club."

I thought that was a strange comment, so I asked, "Why?"

She laughed lightly, before explaining, "Because you're going to be hoarse tomorrow morning, and you might appreciate having an excuse other than me wearing out your vocal chords."

"Babe, I'll gladly confess why I can't talk if you think you've got enough game to make me hoarse," I challenged.

She lifted up on the tips of her toes to bring our mouths closer. With just a hair's breadth between us, she murmured, "Game on, Carlos," and then proceeded to kiss me.

I'd never had a night of passion take away my voice, but I was wise enough to recognize that if it could be done, only the woman pressing her body against mine was up to the challenge.

_Bring it __on, Babe_, I thought, before surrendering to the woman I loved.


	17. Answering Calls

_JE created the characters and world below. _

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for sticking with me as the beta on this story even though my writing has gotten a lot more sporadic. You are such a gift to keep me going in the right direction._

**Chapter 17 - Answering Calls**

After dismissing the core team from our weekly meeting, I couldn't help but notice Bobby check his phone, and then quickly exit. He got notification of every injury to any staff person, so I didn't question his hasty exit, knowing he'd let me know if one of the men were seriously injured.

Lester, however, stayed in his seat, which distracted me quickly from whatever had called Bobby away. I waited for him to speak first, knowing he'd give away whatever was on his mind easily.

"You feeling all right?" he began with a smirk, which I knew meant he was about to ride me over something.

"Fine," I tersely replied, not wanting to give anything away.

"You aren't coming down with anything, are you?" he pushed a little more, getting on my nerves.

"What's the point, Santos?" I was tired of his game and needed to know what he was after.

He pointed to the top of my desk at the wrapper of a cough drop I'd used prior to our meeting. "You're sounding a little worse for wear, and I've rarely seen you suck on those things, except when you're sick."

I narrowed my eyes, hoping he'd pick up on the clue to stop before he took this any further. I should have known better; in thirty years, my cousin has never known to stop when he was ahead. "Of course, you're acting just fine, so I figured you must have strained your voice somehow and wondered if you wanted to share what happened."

He seemed so satisfied with himself that I couldn't allow him to sit there thinking he'd bested me in any way. I could have called him to the mats, but I already beat his ass on a near weekly basis for some infraction, so I didn't really see the point. Instead, I decided to try a little shock therapy.

"Not that it's any of your business, but my voice is damn near gone because last night, I used it more than I ever have. Stephanie was determined to try everything she could think of until I made enough noise that I lost my voice, and you know how stubborn she can be when she sets her mind to it."

Then I tightened down all the control I could harness over the muscles in my face in order to be sure I gave nothing away as he processed that I'd basically just admitted to a night of sex so wild, I was reduced to sucking on cough drops to soothe my throat. Lester knew me well enough to know in my wilder years, there were few things that were off the table for me sexually, and to admit to a night beyond anything I'd ever experienced was one hell of an admission.

Lester's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Finally, Tank spoke up and said, "Man, if you can't come up with anything to say, then shut your mouth." I could see my second in command struggling not to laugh at Santos as well.

It took a few minutes, but Lester finally stood up, although he didn't fully straighten up, as though something near or below his waist was slightly uncomfortable. I decided to let it slide and not call him to the mats over his obvious reaction to the mental image of Stephanie being sexually adventurous. As he walked out – with a slight limp, no less – I tried to rid my own mind of the memory of Stephanie last night in order to keep myself from having to walk out the same way as my cousin.

After he left, Tank looked at me, and then cracked up. I couldn't hold back any longer and joined him laughing over Lester's reaction to my response. As we pulled ourselves together, I noticed Cal standing in the doorway, looking at us as though we'd lost our minds.

"Everything okay, boss?" he asked when I looked at him.

Since when was laughter more cause for alarm than angry outbursts? I know we tended to be more reserved and showed our emotions in subtle ways, but being called out for being happy made Stephanie's point that I probably needed to open up around the guys a little more often.

"It's all good," I told him, lifting my chin slightly to dismiss him.

When he stayed in place, I was on edge that seeing me with my guard down temporarily had given Cal the impression that he didn't have to heed an instruction.

Before I could question his apparent insubordination, he spoke up. "Hector just called and said you probably should go down to three."

My heart literally stopped beating as panic flooded my system. "Who's hurt?"

"He didn't say; he just told me to send you down," Cal reported, doing nothing to assuage my worry that Stephanie's partner wanted me to come down to the medical floor.

I made my way down immediately, focused solely on finding Stephanie and assuring myself that she was okay. As I hit the stairwell, I was trying to calm myself by dwelling on the fact that if she were badly injured, she'd be at St. Francis, and not in Bobby's exam room.

As soon as I opened the door to the third floor, I heard her voice. It was louder than she usually spoke, so I assumed she was arguing over something, which calmed me. If she was worked up enough to argue, then she was most likely okay.

"Will you stop pressing on my head," she demanded with no response from Bobby. Before I made it to his door, she exclaimed, "That hurt! Damn it, Bobby, stop!"

There is a strange disconnect that occurs when your head knows one thing, but your heart refuses to accept it as true. I knew for a fact that Bobby was a fine medic. He's well trained, competent, and exceedingly gentle when it comes to Stephanie. But despite that knowledge, my ears heard my woman complaining that someone was hurting her, and my mouth refused to stay shut.

"Step off, Brown," I commanded as I walked through the doorway.

"Ranger, I just need to feel the knot on the back of her head to be sure there are no cuts that need attention," he explained much more patiently than I deserved for barging in and throwing around orders in the area universally acknowledged as his domain.

Stephanie rolled her eyes, but sat still for him to finish his exam. When he stepped back, he made a few notes in the thick folder that contained details of every time he'd seen Stephanie for one reason or another. After he set down his pen, he turned to his cabinet and started pulling out items and setting them on his rolling tray. I recognized the ice pack and Advil and leaned against the door frame, finally accepting that if that was all she needed then she was fine.

He handed them to her and asked, "You okay?" It might seem strange for a medical professional to ask that question after their exam, but I knew Bobby wouldn't accept her answer until he'd verified for himself that it was true.

"I'm fine," she replied, more from habit than fact.

Bobby placed a quick kiss to the top of her head, before reminding her to text him anytime if she felt differently. I smiled slightly at the fact that most of the men had already begun to adjust the everyday things we said to her to make up for her lack of hearing. The standard line from Bobby would have been "call me with any changes." Steph would have understood what he meant, but he was trying to respect her by telling her to text, since she wouldn't be able to hear to complete a phone conversation. It was subtle, but I saw examples like that every day of how the men were supporting her.

He stopped in front of me and said quickly, "She took a fall off a porch while picking up a skip with Hector. He said she hit her head pretty hard on the sidewalk and there's a goose egg, but I don't think it's severe enough of an injury to worry about." Without further commentary, he walked out and left us alone.

I moved quickly to stand between her legs, where they hung off the exam table. I cupped her face between my hands and looked in her eyes, searching for any indication that Bobby might be understating what happened. The silence stretched on, and the color of her eyes intensified, as the tears that were pooling deepened the shade of blue.

I knew she hated crying, so I pulled her to me and released her from the intense staring I'd been doing, no doubt putting her on edge. As soon as her face rested on my chest, she started talking.

"We were picking up Rodney Johnson in the 'Burg. I've taken him in easily before, so I convinced Hector to stand to the side and let me take the lead. Rodney isn't the most balanced person, and I knew he'd try to run if he saw someone he didn't recognize on his porch. I knocked on the door, and then Hector gave me the signal that he could hear steps coming my way, but Rodney must have looked out his window first and spotted Hector, because he decided to bolt. He shoved the door open, which for some reason on his house, opens out instead of in, like a normal door should. I wasn't expecting the door to swing open, so when it hit me, I fell backwards and off the narrow porch, onto the sidewalk."

I ran my hands up and down her arms to comfort without holding her tightly, giving the impression that I wasn't panicked over her story. I knew it must have hurt, but in the big picture, this type of injury could have happened to her even with her hearing, so there was no point in overreacting.

I heard her sniff a few times and allowed her to continue hiding against my shirt.

"Hector jumped off the porch and took Rodney down so fast, I didn't even see it. I did see his hand slip when he was pulling at the seatbelt to put him in the SUV. At least, I think that's what Hector said happened when he punched Rodney."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing a little at the excuse Hector had given for teaching Rodney a lesson about hurting Stephanie. I hadn't asked what had happened, because I knew there was no way he would've let it go unpunished.

She let me have my moment, and when I stopped moving, she leaned back to look at me. I knew that meant she was going to ask something that would require a response, and I hoped it was a question with an easy answer. After the stress of thinking she'd been more seriously hurt, I was suddenly keen on getting her upstairs to have my own exam of any possible injuries.

"Do you think it's a mistake for me to go after skips?" Her question sounded so uncertain, I wasn't sure how to respond. "Is it too dangerous?"

I took a deep breath, trying to come up with a decent answer to her question that wouldn't make it seem like I was trying to cage her, yet addressed her concerns. "I think it is more dangerous than it used to be with your hearing, but today's incident wouldn't have been prevented if you'd heard him. The door still would have hit you."

She shook her head, as though today wasn't part of her question. "No, I mean in general. Am I being an idiot to go after skips?" She wasn't going to let this go.

I picked up her hand and held it in mine, playing with her slender fingers. "You aren't being an idiot," I stated first, hoping she would believe me. "It is dangerous, but you've agreed to work with Hector, and as far as I've heard, you haven't attempted to lose him once when you're out, so you're being more careful about your safety."

She looked down at our joined hands and let out a sign. Something told me she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of continuing to work in bond enforcement, and I'd be lying if I said the idea of her stopping didn't thrill me. I squeezed her hand to get her to look up once more.

"What do you want to do?" I turned the question around on her and hoped she'd answer so I didn't have to guess.

She shrugged and sat there quietly. I didn't want to ask again, but the longer the silence went on, the more worried I became about the answer. I guess when it came to Steph, I wasn't against breaking nearly every rule I had for myself.

Before I was reduced to begging her to tell me what thoughts were flying through her head, I got a text message and grabbed my phone to look. It was from Papi, asking me to send Hector out to look at their home alarm. It was giving them a silent warning, even though nothing was setting it off.

Stephanie asked what was wrong as I read the message, so I flipped it around for her to read it herself. Her face lifted a little, and she said, "I can fix it. We had a similar problem at a house across town yesterday, and Hector taught me how. It has to be reset. Most likely, there was either a power outage or surge, and the system didn't come back online fully."

I figured she was right and was impressed at how confidently she'd explained the problem. Glancing at my watch, I saw if we left now, we could be there in time to resolve the issue with the alarm and have lunch with my parents, so I suggested just that.

She glanced down at her clothes and said, "Can I have fifteen minutes to change?"

I thought she looked fine as she was but knew better than to say no to her question. "I'll be in the garage when you're ready," I assured her, glad to see her happily jump off the exam table and walk out much more self-assured than she'd been ten minutes before.

I quickly dialed my parents' house and asked about lunch with Stephanie and me. They were thrilled to hear of us coming and promised to have something light for us to share. With that done, I sent Tank a message that I was going to check out an alarm issue at my parents' house, and then made my way to the garage to wait for Stephanie.

When I stepped out of the stairwell, I began to regret the more relaxed interactions of late with the guys. Lester was leaning against my Porsche, smiling at me like he knew a secret I didn't and couldn't wait to tell me.

"Santos," I said both as a greeting and a warning. I didn't want him to think because I joked with him instead of taking him to the mats over his comments this morning that I would approach all his insubordination that way.

"So, I just got a call from Mama," he began, referring to my aunt – his mother. I waited, and he continued talking. "She said her sister called and invited her to lunch at their house."

I gritted my teeth, trying to contain my frustration at my mother for inviting guests over for lunch to interrogate Stephanie. I hadn't specifically told them not to when I called, but I'd assumed after asking them the last time we were there to keep it small that they would understand I wanted that to continue now, as well.

I snapped out of my internal complaining and noticed Lester was still watching me. "So since Mama was invited, she's picking up my sister, too," he added, causing me to growl.

He put his hands up to surrender and backed up. "Hey, man, don't take my head off, I just wanted to warn you so you were prepared before you got there."

For all his flaws, he was still a keeper. "Thanks," I told him as he moved around the car toward the stairwell.

"Oh, yeah, Ranger," he called out to me, getting my attention once more. When I looked up, he threw something through the air, which I easily caught. Glancing down, I realized I was holding a small package of cough drops. "You might want these, because if Tia Maria thinks you're losing your voice, she won't stop questioning you until she gets to the bottom of things. And something tells me you aren't going to want to go all full disclosure with her like you did with me."

"Santos." I used his name as more of a threat than an order, and he quickly ducked behind the door to the stairs, disappearing from view.

Before I could reset my mood, Stephanie stepped out of the elevator in a dress created to bring out the color of her eyes. She was wearing strappy sandals and had braided her hair so that only a few rogue curls were falling around her face and neck. As much as I loved her hair down, it was beautiful this way, as well.

Thirty-six inches from the car, she looked down and ran her hands over her waist, as though checking that everything was pulled together as it should be. I stepped forward to take her hand in mine and stop her from any more adjusting.

When she looked up, I assured her, "You are stunning."

Her eyes narrowed a little, and then she smiled. I knew it wasn't a word she had ever heard me say, so I guessed she was struggling to reconcile what she thought I'd said, since it didn't connect with something she thought I _would_ say.

I decided to change it a little to be sure she'd gotten the right message. "You didn't need to change for my parents, but this is simply beautiful."

That got me a warm smile, as she lifted her fingers to touch my jaw lightly. "I didn't change for your parents," she stated, causing me to question her with a single raised eyebrow. "I changed for you."

With that, she stepped around me and moved to the passenger side of the car, waiting for the door to be unlocked. I didn't know if it was possible for her understand what it did to me when she acted so self confident and assured, but every time she tried to get the best of me, I found myself wanting to draw closer to her, and this was no exception.

I knew I couldn't let her walk into a big family lunch without a little warning, so I followed her to the car under the guise of opening her door, but my hand on her waist stopped her progress.

"My aunt and cousin will be at lunch with my parents today," I warned her.

"Okay," she quickly agreed, not appearing to be put off with that news.

"It's Lester's mother and sister," I added, wanting to be sure she understood the circus that would be waiting for her.

Instead, she surprised me once again by giving me a truly wicked smile and saying, "So I'll have a chance to get the scoop on Lester for embarrassing stories, without him there to defend himself."

"I love the way you think," I told her with a laugh.

When I started the car, there was a CD playing. It was just some background music from the last time I'd driven, but knowing Stephanie couldn't hear it, I reached forward to shut it off.

Stephanie's hand stopped mine, and she told me, "Leave it on."

I was going to object, but she jumped in once more. "You can't put all the sounds in your life on hold because I can't hear them. If you want to hear the music, then leave it playing."

I took my hand back, trying to accept what she was saying, and let the sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club fill the silence between us. Knowing my mother might be calling in more reinforcements, I wanted to get us there as soon as possible so that we didn't enter to a full house. With that thought I began driving as aggressively as I dared to with Stephanie in the car.

There were some risks I no longer considered to be worth taking when it could possibly end with her being hurt. I guess that was just one more way my life had changed since I'd let my guard down with Stephanie. While I always thought I'd resent a change like that, I found that the benefits of having her in my life well outweighed the sacrifice of an occasional bit of fun, like defensively driving at over a hundred and ten miles an hour.

When we pulled up to the house, there were no other cars visible, making me think I'd gotten here in time to tell Mama that I didn't appreciate her springing the family on Stephanie. We walked to the front door hand-in-hand, with Steph carrying the large bag I knew contained her communication devices, as well as a few tools Hector had given her as she learned more about our systems.

Papi opened the door and pulled Stephanie to him in a tight hug. He winked at me as he held my woman to him, and then pulled back to say, "I knew if I set that alarm off, it would get you back to the house."

Steph laughed at his lame attempt at a joke, much too kind to insult him by saying it wasn't funny. Mama came out of the kitchen and moved to pull Stephanie away from my father and draw her into a hug of her own. As she pulled back, she placed her palm against Steph's check, and then kissed her other one to say hello. It struck me that usually when I came home, the warm greeting at the door was for me, but so far, no one had even bothered to say hello to me.

I heard a loud crash in the kitchen, and my mother turned away, reverting to Spanish out of habit to swear loudly that if anybody was touching her food and ruining her lunch, there would be hell to pay. My mother was a loving woman, but from experience, I knew better than to push her when she started talking like that.

My father explained to Steph, "Please excuse my wife. Some of our grandchildren are here today, and she has her hands full in the kitchen, trying to keep them straight."

"How about you show me to the control panel on your security system, and I can take care of that while she is straightening everyone out in the kitchen?" Stephanie suggested.

"Of course, of course," Papi repeated, leading the way to the panel hidden at the side of the door.

We both watched as Stephanie looked at the system and typed in the standard reset code to the keypad. It went through a series of beeps, before it settled back into the silent alarm mode. I was surprised that didn't work, as I had assumed it would. But Stephanie didn't show any disappointment, as she put her bag on the floor and reached in to get a screwdriver to take off the face plate of the panel. There was a small piece of me that wanted to object, but when her nimble fingers made such fast work of removing the covering, I saw she had been well trained by Hector – even down to the way she put the screws in the face plate before setting it on the floor in front of her; she was mirroring the same actions I'd seen Hector perform hundreds of times at other clients.

She dipped into her bag for four other tools, including a circuit tester, but she eventually smiled and whispered, "I've got 'cha," and then pulled out two wires, spliced them, and recapped with the screw on connecter. When she typed in the reset code, the system went through its self check and came up clear and ready to be armed. Smiling with satisfaction that she'd fixed the problem, she quickly replaced the plate to the front, and then turned around.

My father spoke first. "You are so much more than a pretty face, Estephania, I knew that. But where did you learn to do that?"

"Hector taught me," she answered simply.

"You are learning Spanish?" Papi followed up.

Steph seemed confused by the question briefly, and then clarified, "No, Hector knows sign language, and if there is something he needs to tell me that we can't figure out by signing, he will just tell me in English."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "English?"

She nodded. "He thought you knew. He understands more than he can speak, but he's pretty good at talking, too. He just prefers Spanish and learned early on that if he stayed quiet, people would bend to what he wanted."

I shook my head. Stephanie had once again tamed a savage beast. No one would ever guess that Hector knew English, but no one would be surprised that it was Stephanie that had teased out his little secret first. The longer she was around the guys, the more I was convinced that no secret was safe. People confided in her without a second thought, because they knew whatever they told her would be met with complete acceptance.

Two hours later, after a long and loud lunch and an extended period of Stephanie being hauled away from me into the kitchen, while my mother, aunt, and cousins pounced on her, we finally said our goodbyes.

I stopped at the end of their street to be sure she was all right.

"I'm fine," she assured me, as though my concerns were ridiculous. "I had a great time hearing all about Lester. I can't wait for the right moment to share a little of what I learned."

I ran my finger down her jaw line and smiled at the woman I loved. "I'm so proud of you," I told her, using a more formal statement of my usual tag line, in order to be sure she understood how true the words were.

"Why? All I did was eat lunch," she replied, as though my pride didn't fit in this circumstance.

I raised an eyebrow, but I could see it was going to take more than that to make my point. I leaned over to place a soft kiss on her lips, before pulling back to say, "I'm filled with pride over the woman you are. How you handle my family with such grace, even when they were talking so quickly, you had to struggle to keep up." Then I remembered the beginning of our visit and added, "Plus, you masterfully repaired the issue with their alarm. I'm going to need to talk to Hector about that."

"Why do you need to talk to Hector?" she wondered a little defensively.

"Because Brett has been bugging me to get back in the field, but I couldn't let him switch over full time, because Hector had more work than he could handle, and Brett was the only other person qualified to help him. It seems to me that you are more than qualified to assist, so if Hector agrees, then your newfound skills might make Brett very happy," I told her, loving the way she lit up with my praise.

As we made our way back to Haywood, I found my zone easily. Cuban music was playing in the background, Stephanie was being soothed to sleep in the seat beside me, and I thought I had a new offer to make Stephanie if she wanted to get out of the office, but was worried about picking up skips. Remembering how I'd watched her in action at my parents' house led me to believe my earlier statement about having her replace Brett was an ideal solution.

I suddenly realized I was happy. It might sound like a strange admission, but I'd spent most of my life doing things and not stopping to appreciate what I'd done. In the month I'd spent as Steph's man, I was proud of what we had built together. We were sharing our lives, the hard and the easy parts. That was something I didn't think would ever be possible for me, and yet, I was doing it as naturally as I breathed.

Recognizing that as true put me on edge that now that I had all my dreams realized, I had so much more to lose, but a quick glance at Stephanie eased that fear. The peace I found anytime I was near her when she was sleeping eased me once again. I had done a great deal in my life that I wasn't proud of, but what I had with Stephanie was probably my greatest accomplishment. If I did nothing else, I could say that I had loved a woman with my whole heart and was blessed enough to know she loved me, too.

Moving us down the highway toward our home, I realized there was nothing more important than that.


	18. Just Another Day on the Job

_Nothing below is mine, JE created it all._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for the time and effort you put in as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 18 – Just Another Day on the Job**

"That's bullshit and you know it," Tank argued with me when I asserted my Porsche could easily take his Mustang.

I laughed, both at his lack of making a case to back up his opinion, and the fact that he sounded like he was eighteen again, back when the only things we had to talk about were cars and girls, because we sure as hell didn't have enough money to go out and do anything.

We'd come in the control room to cover the monitors for an hour. We rarely worked in here, but it was good to be reminded of what the guys were doing on a regular basis, and it set an example that I wasn't asking them to do anything I wasn't willing to do myself. I doubted Stephanie had ever seen Tank and me work in here, because she would, no doubt, have had plenty to say about how the seriousness of the task that made most guys lose their minds with boredom caused us to revert to rapid fire conversation.

Tank pulled up a feed after getting a message from one of the guys and commented that Stephanie and Hector were finishing the install at Rodriguez's newest jewelry store, pointing to a screen as proof.

I knew I shouldn't look, because anytime I saw Stephanie, I had a hard time looking away. In the end, I decided that was why I paid Tank the big bucks, and I ignored the other monitors so that I could focus on what Hector and Stephanie were doing. Yesterday, they'd put up a series of cameras, which provided my view at the moment, but they'd returned today to add the sensors to the doors and windows and complete the panel wiring to finish off the job.

The store had a steady stream of customers, never getting crowded, but never completely empty, either. I noticed most people gave Hector wide berth, but when Stephanie smiled at them or waved a friendly greeting, they seemed to relax and move on to look in the display cases. I knew without Stephanie there, we probably would have heard from the client, complaining about Hector scaring away customers.

They worked well, each obviously capable of handling the task given to them. Occasionally, one would sign and the other would respond with a smile, making me think they were discussing more than just the specs of the job.

A man walked in and turned to look at Stephanie, who was bent at the waist, digging through her tool bag. I didn't appreciate the amount of time he was giving to appreciating the ass of my woman, but there was nothing I could do about it, sitting behind the desk.

Stephanie stood up suddenly just as the man turned and walked to the back counter. She looked confused and took a few moments to look at every person in the store. I wondered what she was searching for. Hector walked over to her and began signing, apparently trying to figure out the same thing. I started to feel a little more on edge when Hector also began scanning the crowd.

"What's doing, Rangeman?" Tank asked, picking up on my sudden interest in the monitor when I moved forward to see better.

"Something has Hector and Stephanie on edge," I said, pointing to the screen.

Stephanie put her hand on Hector's arm to get his attention and then began signing, without looking at him. Her eyes were glued to the man who had paused to check her out. If I had to guess, I would say she was reading his lips as he spoke to the clerk behind the counter and passing along his words to Hector.

Hector took a step closer, putting his body between Stephanie and the heated conversation she was observing, and then his hand went to his side, where I knew a gun was located.

"Holy shit," Tank exclaimed, his eyes glued to the screen. "That guy is threatening to start shooting if the clerk doesn't do everything he says."

"How do you know that?" I asked, feeling left out of the loop.

"That's what Stephanie is signing," Tank explained, as though the answer were obvious. "I guess those classes I've been taking are paying off. I can actually keep up with her now."

I couldn't stop my head from turning to the side to ask, "You've been taking sign language classes?"

Stephanie had taught herself to sign with some help from the software on her laptop, a group she'd been attending for support, and time with Hector. Then she would pass along what she'd learned to me in what she referred to as my private lessons. We got off topic pretty quickly, but I could proudly say that I knew the sign for every part of her body.

Tank shrugged, like it was no big deal. "How else was I supposed to show her I had her back if I didn't keep up with what she was learning?"

All these years we'd been friends, and I was still learning stuff about the mountain of a man to my right.

Movement on the screen brought my focus back to the situation Stephanie was in. I could dwell on the mystery that was Tank later. "What is Hector saying?" I asked. I had learned a lot of signs from my time with Stephanie, but when they went fast and were at an angle like we had from the camera, I struggled to keep up.

"He's telling her something is too risky and that she needs to get down and stay there," Tank translated, before picking up the phone and calling the police to report a robbery in progress.

I didn't need his help to know Stephanie's response. She shook her head no emphatically, before picking up her tool bag and walking closer to the jackass threatening to pull out a gun.

Since no one else in the store was panicking, I had to guess his voice was being kept very low and that the clerk hadn't alerted anyone to the potential threat to them all.

"Don't do it, Little Girl," Tank said out loud, as though it would stop Stephanie from moving forward with one of her ideas.

Stephanie was within a few feet of the target, when she dropped her tool bag. The man stopped talking to the clerk and focused on Stephanie, who was busily grabbing the tools from the ground. While she had his attention diverted, Hector moved so that he was positioned to come up behind the man without being seen.

Stephanie looked up at the criminal in front of her and spoke to him. I watched as his face turned harsh and began to worry about what she was doing to turn his anger on her. When his hand moved to his back, reaching for something hidden under his coat, I stopped breathing. At that close distance, a shot anywhere was going to hit her and cause major damage.

I was so focused on my woman that when the man threatening her collapsed to the ground, I was surprised when I saw Hector standing behind him, putting away his stun gun and pulling out a pair of cuffs, instead. He had just finished subduing the would-be robber when the police stormed in and began taking over.

When Morelli arrived on the scene, I relaxed, knowing that he would believe Stephanie as she explained what happened and would understand when she most likely admitted that her gut told her something was wrong as the man entered the store, allowing her to discover his intent in time to stop him.

Cal and Vince came into the control room to relieve us and noticed the screen I was monitoring intently.

"What the hell happened to Bomber?" Vince asked, obviously worried about her being surrounded by the police.

Tank replied without moving his eyes from the other screens he was watching. "She intercepted an idiot who was trying to hold up a jewelry store and distracted the guy long enough for Hector to knock him out and cuff him. Just another day on the job, gentlemen," he summed up with a smile.

I made a mental note to replay the conversation to Stephanie tonight so that she would know how highly Tank thought of her. I decided to match his level of cool and stood up to allow Vince to have my chair. "She was just doing her job. Don't act so surprised."

Cal was the first to speak after our explanation. "But how did she know what was going on if she stopped him before he did anything?"

I smiled and went with an evasive answer instead of a direct response. "She's Wonder Woman, didn't you know?"

The office was completely silent as I walked away. It was Tank's eventual laughter that broke the spell. As he stood up to walk away behind me, I heard him take on a falsetto voice to sing "Wonder Woman" like the old theme song did.

I shut the door to my office and stood at the window, staring at nothing in particular and trying to get my breathing and heart rate back under control. I found it hard to do in light of everything that could have gone wrong in what I just saw.

I settled for a distraction and decided to head down to the gym to work off the adrenaline that had flooded my system. I spent the next hour and a half making the equipment suffer for the harm that could have come to Stephanie. I knew this was a part of our lives; danger was always there, and because of what we did, we encountered it more often than other people.

Of course, that was a major part of why I had fought a relationship with her for so long. I didn't want this shadow of harm to be a part of her life because of my choices. As I pummeled the bag in front of me, I had to admit, though, that I hadn't caused this danger. She'd basically walked right up to it on her own, and as much as I'd love to sit her down and yell at her for not listening to Hector when he told her to get down and hide, I also had to respect what she'd done to neutralize a threat and protect the other innocent people around her.

While I was replaying the scene in my mind, hands stopped the bag I was working, forcing me to look up and acknowledge Hector's presence.

"_You saw_?" he asked in Spanish, obviously already knowing the answer.

I nodded once, not ready to talk about it.

"_She did good, right_?" Hector volunteered. His voice had an edge to it. I could tell he was watching me, and if I didn't agree with him, I was about to see a side of Hector that had never been unleashed in my direction.

Fortunately, I'd gotten a little perspective while I was down here, so I reached for a towel I'd thrown on the mat and wiped my face, before responding, "_Yeah__, she did great_."

He nodded and let go of the bag, satisfied that I was seeing this the way I should.

"Thanks for watching over her," I called out in English before he turned to leave. I was curious if he could really understand me like Stephanie said.

Hector's brow wrinkled, as though he didn't comprehend my meaning. "_I didn't_," he corrected me in his usual Spanish. "_She's my __partner. I__ worked beside her. She protected us all._"

"_I thought you told me once you'd quit before you'd accept a permanent partner_," I threw out there, reminding him of his own words in light of his statement now, no longer caring what language we used.

Hector smiled, a strange site on his face. "_I was wrong_," he easily admitted. "_I would quit before I worked with the wrong partner. __But Stephanie__…_" He stopped, still looking the right words. "_She gets me and makes it better together than apart_."

"_I know the feeling, man_," I assured him.

I decided I'd done enough for now to keep my reactions under control, so I grabbed my bottle of water and my cell phone to head upstairs. Just as I was walking into the apartment, my phone buzzed that I had a text.

When I glanced down, I saw it was from Stephanie.

_What__ have you done_?

I was clueless, so I texted back a single question mark.

It took a minute, but the next message had an attached photo of her cubicle on five. The guys had apparently taken my words to heart and had decorated her space with printed out pictures of the actress Lynda Carter dressed up as Wonder Woman.

_I guess your reputation precedes you_, I replied, smiling on the way to the shower.

After cleaning up, I stepped out and looked at the mail I'd brought up with me the night before and never bothered reading. Mixed in with some miscellaneous bills and advertisements was a receipt for my donation to the annual Policeman's Ball. RangeMan always purchased at least one table at the event and sponsored some element, as well, in order to be seen as a friend to the law enforcement in Trenton. A strong police force benefited everyone, so I'd always gone out of my way to support them.

Each table allowed me send ten people to represent the company. Previously, I'd allowed the men to volunteer and would give out the tickets in pairs on a first come, first served basis. I hadn't been in the last few years, grateful to have a legitimate reason such as a mission or assignment to cover my absence in a politically acceptable way. The date was two weeks away, and I smiled as I remembered the black dress I'd purchased for Stephanie when we'd gone shopping. She'd sworn it was too expensive and had assumed she wouldn't have an occasion to wear it. I kept the invitation in my hand and went down to five to find Stephanie.

She was typing away, working on a stack of search requests from Rodriguez, surrounded by the various pictures of her favorite super hero. I put the embossed ticket on the paper at the top of her stack and watched as she picked it up and read it, before spinning around.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she wondered aloud after finishing.

I shook my head no, and clarified, "I'm trying to ask, not tell," I teased. "Would you care to join me at the ball in two weeks?"

Her grin was enough of an answer for me to keep talking. "I believe there is a black dress in your closet that you now have an occasion to wear."

She tried to look cross at me pulling a subtle I told you so, but the smile that kept cracking the drawn lips gave her away.

Then, to sweeten the deal, I asked, "And as a practice run, there is a restaurant I want to take you to tomorrow night."

Her face relaxed as she waited for more details.

"It's a little dressy, but not formal, and they have a dance floor in the bar. The blue dress you picked when we went shopping would be perfect." I was feeling pretty proud of myself for coming up with uses for both dresses in less than five minutes.

"I can't wear that dress," she interrupted my self congratulations.

"Why not?" I wondered. She didn't know the place I was referring to, so I had no idea why she was convinced the clothes I suggested wouldn't be appropriate.

"I don't have shoes," she replied with a grin.

My hand reached back to my hip to grab my wallet. I was about to flip out my credit card and charge her to get busy finding some, but she put her hand up and stopped me.

"You better be reaching back to scratch an itch, because if you are even thinking about grabbing your wallet, we're about to have a problem."

I let my hand fall loosely to my side, basically confessing she'd caught me in the act. "Why can't I take care of you?"

"Because I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she quickly answered. "Besides, you do plenty for me, and this is something small that I want to do for myself. I've got this fancy job that earns me a steady paycheck, and since I basically live for free, I want to spend a little of my money on myself."

When she put it like that, I saw her point. I didn't like it, because something in me wanted to spoil her, but I let it go to keep the peace.

She stood up and kissed my check, before informing me, "I'm going to see if Lula wants to go to the mall with me to find some shoes. I think I'm better prepared to handle any problems we might encounter."

I didn't like the idea of her going out without someone from RangeMan, but I knew better than to assign someone to follow her. Never let it be said that I wasn't a student of history. Instead, I grabbed her hand and said, "Please be careful."

She calmly walked back to me and nuzzled my neck, before whispering, "I will be. And since I appreciate you not freaking out over me leaving without a RangeMan presence, I might just have to pick up a little something for your good behavior."

I made a sound of assent that rumbled in my chest so she could feel it pressed against her, which made her laugh as she walked away. After she disappeared in the elevator, I went back to my office. Before I could get busy with anything, Tank appeared with a smile on his face.

"You want to have some fun?" he asked with a grin I recognized as meaning there was a skip that we needed to pick up, and based on his charges, we didn't need to be overly gentle about it, either.

I stood up without hesitation, opened my safe to suit up, and followed him out. "Details," I prompted as I pulled on my vest.

"Thirty-eight-year-old male, charged with assaulting a police officer. Apparently, he beat a cop with a metal tube until he lost consciousness, and then fled the scene, leaving the cop there alone," Tank explained, letting the detail hang out there unsaid that because of the charges, the cops wouldn't say a word if the skip came in a little worse for wear. If anything, they'd consider it a favor, since they couldn't exactly teach him a lesson themselves.

"Where is he?" I asked, leading the way to the garage.

"Asleep at home, a block off Stark," he said with a smile.

It didn't seem like that long ago that we were heading in the same direction to remind the neighborhood I was back and still very capable of taking care of business. I didn't think they needed another reminder this soon, but it was too perfect of a file to pass up.

The house looked like it was a building inspection shy of being condemned, and I briefly wondered if I should suggest Tank not go in. I was by no means a small man, but Tank had another fifty pounds on me, and I worried about him going through the porch, instead of across it.

We stepped out of the truck, and Tank held out a mug shot of the skip so I'd have a visual of who we were after. I nodded and decided we needed to split up, giving Tank the back, in case the idiot decided to run.

But before I could inform him of my master plan, he pointed to himself and used what I knew was the sign for back, and then pointed and me and added front. We'd communicated non-verbally for years using signals and head nods like we were taught in the Army. This was taking that communication and moving it to the next level. I knew exactly what he was saying, so I nodded, and then bent at the waist to minimize my height and moved quietly to the porch.

My phone vibrated twice when Tank was in position, and only then did I climb the three steps to approach the front door. I glanced in the windows and saw the skip stretched out in a recliner, with the television on in front of him. He appeared to be asleep, giving me the time to look for any weapons. I had to wonder why the guy lived in such a run down shack, based on the expensive electronics he was camping out in front of.

My phone buzzed again, and I glanced down to see a text from Tank.

_Waiting on an invitation?_

I quickly debated telling him to fuck off, but decided he was right. I was distracted, and in this business, distracted meant dead, so I pulled my gun and moved to the door, kicking it open and rushing through it in one motion. I was at the chair when he completely woke. I could see the thought of running cross his face, but when his back door shattered from Tank's boot, he gave up and just put his hands in the air.

I was slightly disappointed that he wasn't fighting. Knowing his record, I was looking forward to the rush of the chase. This was easy – too easy. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I heard the front porch creak and knew someone was coming in. I yelled out "front door," without moving my attention from the skip. Tank moved to block the backup from entering, but I guess Mr. Stupid thought it was enough of a distraction to keep me from taking him down, because he jumped up and rushed at me.

I had just long enough to debate the merits of shooting him, but decided that was too easy, and took a fighting stance, instead. I had to give the kid props for attempting to take me down. He definitely gave it effort, but he had no training, and without a lead pipe like he'd used on the cop, he had no chance with me.

I heard a similar scuffle behind me and figured Tank was having a little fun. After the skip was unconscious and cuffed on the floor, I turned to look behind me and saw Tank standing there, with three punks out cold at his feet. His teeth were shining in contrast to his dark skin from the smile plastered on his face. I hadn't seen him that amused since he'd first bought his dream car and took it out for a spin.

Tank looked at the kids he'd taken out, and then over at the skip, before saying, "You only got one? I think you're slowing down, man."

I smiled in return, refusing to laugh, but still finding humor in his lame attempt at a joke to call me old. "True, but what I didn't do in quantity, I more than made up for in quality."

The skip was bleeding from cuts on his face and a broken nose, I knew he'd be pissing blood for a day or two, and unless I was losing my touch, he had a rib or two that should be wrapped.

"What should we do with these guys?" Tank asked, looking at the bodies on the floor.

"Leave them," I told him, knowing we weren't going to press charges and doubting they were wanted. Hell, looking at them more closely, I wondered why they weren't in school. "They're just kids."

Tank nodded in agreement. "What kind of asshole uses teenagers as bodyguards while he sleeps in front of the television?"

I moved over the skip to hoist him up for transport, when a moan was heard from the bottom of the pile of kids. I have no idea what made me do it, but I moved over to be in his line of vision when he woke up.

It took him a few blinks, but I knew the moment his eyes focused because his face transformed with pure terror.

I lifted my hands with my palms toward him so he'd know I meant him no harm. "Easy," I said calmly in a low voice. Then I reached to my pocket, pulled out one of my business cards, and held it out to him.

He glanced between my face and the paper several times, before reaching out and taking it.

"Good," I told him, glad he finally decided to trust me that much. "We're taking your boss to lockup, but you and your friends are free to go."

His face relaxed slightly at that piece of information.

"I don't know how you got mixed up with this garbage, and it's really none of my business, but if you need any help getting out of it, give me a call. You're entirely too young to go down this road."

His face gave nothing away, but I knew the fact that he said nothing in return was a good sign. If he'd defended himself or his involvement, I'd have known he was already too far gone to help. There was still hope for this one.

Tank picked up the skip and hauled him to the truck. We had him secured in the back when he began to moan. Tank slammed the door, refusing to sit him up any straighter to ease the pain he was no doubt in from his slumped over position.

When he turned around and looked at me, I smiled and pointed to his left hand. There was a cut on it that had bled some, leaving a trail of dried blood from his knuckles to his wrist.

"You going soft?" I teased. "How did a fifteen-year-old punk get the jump on you?"

I had already done a once over on myself and knew I was injury free. Despite his attempt to hurt me, he'd never landed a punch. I knew it was unfair to pick on Tank for what amounted to a scratch. Even the best fighter was going to get a ding or two when taking on multiple assailants at once.

We bickered back and forth as we drove to the station to drop off the trash from the back. Eddie was standing at the front desk, talking to Robin when we came in, pulling the skip behind us. Eddie tilted his head and quickly identified who we had. When his face hardened, I knew we were all right for the shape of our drop off.

"Let me guess...he tried to resist?" Eddie supplied us with our story.

"That's right," I agreed with a smirk. Then I pointed to Tank's hand and said, "As you can see, he tried to attack, so we had to use whatever means necessary to subdue him."

"Subdue?" the skip stupidly spoke up. "You didn't subdue anything! You damn near killed me and my boys."

Eddie looked around and said, "I don't see any boys, but I know that since this was all done in self defense, no charges will be filled."

The skip shut up, realizing he was about to be locked up by a less than happy looking cop. Eddie was probably the most laid back officer I knew, but he wore the uniform with pride, and looking at the scum that tried to kill one of his own was enough to hide any trace of the relaxed man I knew him to be.

Robin gave us a receipt and held it when I lifted my hand to take it. I met her eyes, and she spoke softly. "Thanks."

"Just doing my job," I told her, realizing I'd never been thanked for bringing in a skip.

"No," Robin corrected me. "Every cop in this place wanted to have a piece of him, and the chief forbid any of us from laying a hand on him. When he made bail, we all held our breath, hoping he'd miss his hearing so you could bring him in. I was afraid if somebody didn't teach him a lesson, one of the guys would feel the need to do it, and enough people have been hurt already because of him."

I got it, I really did, so I replied, "Like I said, I was just doing my job."

She released the receipt, allowing Tank and me to walk outside once more. "You ever get the feeling a lot more was said than what was said?"

As strange as it sounded, I fully understand what he meant, but before I could respond, both our phones buzzed, alerting us to texts coming through.

"What the hell?" Tank said aloud, as I read my own confusing message.

Stephanie had sent me a text that read simply, _No matter what happens, don't __panic. I'm__ fine_.

Despite what she might have intended, that message alone put me on edge.

Tank handed me his phone to read a text from Hector.

_Helping __Steph. Tell__ the boss it's all under control_.

We looked at each other, just as our phones began buzzing with a pattern reserved for control room alerts. Looking down, we'd received the same message.

_Stephanie's__ car went off line. All available teams respond._ Below the message was an address and a GPS map link.

We moved without another word and as quickly as possible, made our way to the mall, where the alert said Stephanie's car had gone off the grid. Just before I pulled into the lot, I heard the fire engines blaring and knew her car had gone to its great reward. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to pull on my years of practice of covering up what I was feeling. Nobody needed to know how panicked I really was.

Tank broke the silence and said, "You know how you pushed Stephanie away for years, saying it was too dangerous for her to be around you?"

I didn't really see why my shitty history with Steph was important right now, but I nodded, too on edge to argue the point.

He let out a humorless chuckle, before adding, "I think you might have had it backwards. Man, your life is a walk in the park compared to this."

He gestured to the scene in front of us, swimming with cops and fire fighters and a few RangeMan employees assisting in the securing of the scene. As much as I wanted to disagree, he had a point. My life might have held a certain amount of evil, but it definitely didn't hold a candle to what she seemed to attract.

Stephanie was being checked out by Bobby, who had his blank face on. Hector was standing guard to her right, his eyes surveying the scene around him, but he didn't seem on edge the way one would expect, knowing her car had just been destroyed. If anything, he looked like he was struggling not to laugh.

I looked over at Tank, who was rubbing the back of his neck, his nervous habit. "She might have the advantage in danger, but at least I know my life will never be boring," I informed him.

It might have sounded cavalier to an outside observer, but I knew Tank understood what I meant. I was wired to need a certain amount of change from the monotony of the day to day. And even with all her other perks, life with Stephanie guaranteed no two days would ever be the same.


	19. Payback's a

_Still not mine – JE gets the credit (and the royalties, darn it)._

_Jenny (JenRar), thank you for the time and hard work you have put into this story as the beta. _

**Chapter 19 – Payback's a…**

I stood aside and watched Stephanie interact with the craziness around her. Honestly, without her hearing, she was probably at more of an advantage, as she could concentrate on one conversation at a time, without the distraction of all the yelling and commotion around her.

Finally, the EMT and Bobby both agreed that she was fine and released her to come over to me. My mind was full of questions, but I didn't know where to begin, so I settled for looking at her, glancing over to the car, and then back to her.

She laughed and said, "What? You were the one that said I needed a different car. I told you mine was fine, but it appears you might be correct. I am now in need of some new wheels."

"Care to explain why?" I finally spit out, still uncertain about what in the hell was going on.

Stephanie pointed to the still smoking remains of her car and said, "Isn't it obvious? Even by my low standards, that is no longer a safe vehicle."

I couldn't tell if she was trying to be funny or just trying to get under my skin, but the latter was all she was succeeding in. Hector came over and interrupted us by signing a mile a minute, before she responded at the same breakneck speed. I waited as they finished, and then Hector leaned in to kiss her check and walk away. I knew if he was walking away completely relaxed, there was no threat here, but until she explained the mystery, I couldn't let it go.

"Babe," I said, pulling her chin to look at me, "I need some details."

She pulled me away from the chaos and said, "Lula and I finished shopping, and when we came out, Joyce Barnhardt was parked a few spaces away from my car at the fringe of the parking lot. She'd put a note under the wiper of my car, telling me that I could quit working for Vinnie, because she was there to cover for me now that I couldn't hear."

I started piecing the scene in front of me in a dozen different ways with just that small amount of set up. "What did you do?" I asked, knowing it sounded like an accusation, but my gut was telling me it was a fair one, just the same.

Steph put her hand on her chest and pretended to look innocent, only reinforcing my earlier guess that she'd caused the scene in front of us.

"I went over to her car to confront her and let her know I wasn't giving up my job with Vinnie for her or anyone else, but she was asleep, and even with my yelling, she wasn't waking up."

Then Steph started to laugh, and I knew the good part was coming.

"I texted Hector, because he and I had spent a surveillance shift brainstorming different revenge tactics for Joyce, and he'd suggested making her understand what it was like for me, to give her a chance to change her behavior. I didn't think it would work, but I saw a chance to at least try it," she began.

I looked around and saw that the team of EMTs that had treated Stephanie were now around Joyce, and she was smacking at them, refusing to let them examine her. I knew she wasn't entirely stable, but I'd never seen her looking quite so crazed as she did at this moment.

"Hector showed up with some of the new wax ear protectors that you guys are trying out for extended gun range practice," she explained, pulling out a little box from her pocket.

I recognized the box. It contained a new product we were testing out at the range for the military. Normal ear plugs would mute the sound of the guns firing, but they didn't come close to blocking out all sounds. The wax was a bit of a misnomer, as it was actually a synthetic compound that felt like soft wax, making it pliable enough to shape easily. It was a brilliant invention that blocked out all noise so that only the vibration of sound could be felt, but no true sound waves made it through as an auditory signal. There were downsides to the product, as it was light, flesh-colored almost, and was harder than hell to get out if it were pushed in too far. Despite that drawback, I knew if I were in a high noise setting with hearing loss being probable, I wouldn't hesitate to shove a ball of the wax in.

"I took advantage of Joyce's unconscious state and put two big blobs in her ears. Lula stood guard and let me know that Joyce snored through the whole thing. Once I was satisfied it was in there far enough to not be seen, we moved onto stage two of the operation," she stated, still smiling.

I was afraid to ask, but needed the whole story. "What was stage two?"

"Nobody goes to sleep hearing and wakes up deaf without something happening in between, so I decided to give her a valid explanation for the state she would wake up in and got Hector to help me destroy my car." Her eyes were sparkling at the mention of her transportation's destruction.

"You seem pleased about the explosion," I pointed out.

"I've never been able to step back and observe one before. It's amazing, really," she said, as though she were describing the beauty of a blooming flower, and not the flames currently consuming her car.

"Anyway, Hector planted something on my car near the gas tank, and we all moved away to where he thought we'd be safe. We sent you and Tank messages not to worry, and then Hector hit the detonation button and we watched it explode. Lula said it made a huge sound, and even from the distance we were away, we could see Joyce wake up and jump out of the car, running toward the mall and away from the flames," she said, stopping to laugh some more at the memory.

I approached her and asked if she was all right, and she interrupted me, screaming that my car exploding had nearly killed her. She was completely hysterical, so I waited for her to stop talking, and then asked again if she was injured, but she just started screaming again that I had infected her and spouted off some mess about having parked so close to my car and how that had caused her to catch my deafness, like it were some kind of virus. Any pity I felt for her about the way our little trick had scared her vanished when she started pointing at me and calling me a freak. Lula got between us and tried to reason with her – well, reason Lula-style – but since Joyce couldn't hear us, she mainly just stood there screaming. I'm sure when she finally lets the EMTs check her out, they'll find the wax and take it out, so she'll be fine, but for right now, I'm pretty happy with her response to losing her hearing. It was totally worth killing my car to see her unable to communicate and unwilling to ask for help."

I knew in the back of my mind that this little stunt with Joyce might cause some major problems if Joyce decided to pay her back with a prank of her own, but at the moment, I didn't care. For once, a person that had hurt my woman had gotten a taste of their own medicine, and hopefully, before she began running her mouth off in complete ignorance again, she might think back on this brief experience and leave Stephanie alone. Just the same, I decided I'd talk to Hector about keeping an extra diligent watch over Steph when they were out.

"Where's Lula?" I asked, knowing better than to lecture her about pulling off this trick.

"There are cops here," she replied, as though that answered everything.

I guess it did. Despite her years on the straight and narrow, she hadn't gotten over her nervous aversion to the presence of police.

"You're okay?" I asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

"I'm fine," she assured me, looking back at where Joyce was still fighting the medical personnel, refusing to let them near her ears.

I could hear her shrill voice screeching over the other noise around us and realized how fortunate it was that Stephanie had leaned more toward talking softer since she lost her ability to judge volume.

When she turned back to look at me, I asked, "Where to now?"

"Well, it appears that I'm in the market for a new car," she joked with a gleam in her eye.

"Any chance you'll let me take care of this new need on your behalf?" I pushed, knowing the answer, but unable to stop myself.

Her smiled fell completely, and she said, "No way. I have some money saved up, since I haven't had to pay rent in a while, and since I'm not taking my car out to chase skips anymore, I'm willing to invest a little more into my next vehicle. But I will let you help me pick out something a step up from where I've usually shopped for cars."

I began running through various scenarios, where I could pull the salesman aside and help with the financing in order to get her into the best possible vehicle.

"You can stop that, right now," she ordered, as though reading my thoughts. "I'm buying this car; you're just there to give it your safety seal of approval."

Knowing I was totally busted, I smiled and motioned for her to follow me. Just before I opened the door to the truck for her to get in, I remembered what she'd said. "What did you mean when you said you were not using your car to chase skips? Have you decided to give it up?"

She paused while she thought back over what we'd discussed, and then said, "No, I just meant when Hector and I go out, we take a RangeMan vehicle, not mine. I talked to him about it, and he didn't see why I had to give up BEA work. When we work together, we get everyone assigned to us quickly. We agreed that moving up to a higher level skip would be a bad move, but I like going after the bad guys, and Hector seems to enjoy doing it with me, so for now, I'm going to keep working on my skills and doing what I want to."

I pushed a curl away from her face and smiled at her words. Sure, there was a piece of me that hoped she'd give it up, just because she'd be safer if she weren't on the streets intentionally interacting with the criminal element of Trenton, but I knew what she meant about enjoying it and not wanting to give it up. Besides, just in the short time she'd been working with Hector, I'd noticed her whole approach had changed. She did more research first and came up with a plan. Hector had gotten her to carry a charged and ready stun gun, and a knife which he was training her with every day during some self defense training he demanded she endure with him. Her confidence was at an all time high, and there really was no valid reason to give it up.

"Proud of you, Babe," I repeated the words I'd said to her so often, pleased when her whole face lit up with my simple praise.

Five hours and four car lots later, Stephanie was driving ahead of me in her slightly used, midnight blue, 2010 Honda Pilot. It was a great vehicle for her – low mileage, great body, no mechanical issues, plenty of room for passengers or shopping bags, and a fantastic safety rating. She seemed thrilled that it had adjustable leather seats and a moon roof, and I liked that it had an advanced security system I would be upgrading and a solid undercarriage so that I could easily plant reliable trackers.

I did manage to convince the salesman to offer her a rebate of eight grand to reduce the price to her pre-stated range and slipped him my credit card to run it through while she was sitting in the driver's seat, playing with the controls. I should have felt remorse for going behind her back after she specifically told me not to, but the look of joy on her face when the finance manager came out to congratulate her on being accepted for financing on the balance of the car after the rebate and her down payment that I no longer saw the downside of what I'd done.

We pulled into the garage, and she hopped out of her new SUV, running her hand down the side and smiling at it. I walked over just in time to hear her comment. "This is such a great car." Then she turned to me and said, "Be sure to tell Hector to plant the trackers where I won't see them so they don't disturb the overall look."

"Got it," I assured her, glad she wasn't debating the fact that I was going to monitor her vehicle.

We made our way to the elevator, and she hit seven and five, which surprised me. It was getting late, and after such a long day, I figured she'd want to head up to seven. When the doors opened, I noticed she didn't move to step out, so I looked at her to see what was wrong.

"I figured you'd be more comfortable here," she stated, as though that were an explanation.

Seeing my confusion, she continued. "Since you intentionally went against my instructions and added some of your money to mine to purchase the car, I assumed you knew I'd be pissed off and want a little space to cool down. But if you want to chance it and put yourself in an enclosed space with a woman carrying a grudge, then by all means, let's continue this up on seven."

Damn, I was totally busted and couldn't say a single thing now to justify what I'd done at the dealership. "Babe," I began with just her name, but she put a hand up to cut me off.

"Save it, Ranger," she said, emphasizing my street name, making it evident that she wasn't calling me Carlos.

The doors to the elevator closed, and we began to move up to seven, when a counter argument popped into my head. "Wait a minute. If you knew what I was doing and didn't stop me, why are you pissed about it now?"

"I wondered if you would fess up and tell me what you were doing," she stated with a single finger in the air. She stood up the next digit, and then continued, "And when I realized how much I wanted that car, I knew I wasn't going to be able to afford it, and while I was distracted, I saw you talking to the salesman in the rearview mirror, so I read your lips and realized you were making it possible for me to have what I really wanted. In the short amount of time where I was debating jumping out of the car and telling you to stop, the finance person came out and started congratulating me, and I temporarily justified my selfishness in taking your money, but now that we're back here and I'm not so close to the car, I'm pissed again."

I'd never understood how women's minds seemed to work in such circles. "Wait, you're mad at me because you think you were selfish in letting me help you get the car you really wanted?"

"You aren't looking at this in the right way," she accused with a hint of sulking that I found endearing, even if the situation was frustrating.

"I'm looking at it as being a man who has endured hell because of my line of work. For enduring the horrors, I have been well paid and saved a sum of money large enough that I never have to worry. I want to share some of what I have saved, because it would bring me a great deal of joy to occasionally spoil the woman I love, and yet, every time I try, you shoot me down and refuse to let me do what I can to show you how I feel," I told her in what I thought was a very patient tone.

"And how about the way it makes me feel?" she challenged. "You have money to throw around, and I have so little comparatively. I can't spoil you the way you want to spoil me, so it creates a dynamic of me being indebted to you that isn't fair."

"I don't need to be spoiled," I pointed out. "I haven't gone without things as I've made my money. I buy everything I need as I go."

"Which means even if I had the funds, I still couldn't spoil you," she huffed.

I needed to put an end to this discussion, or money was going to be a sticking point every time it came up. This was the second time we'd had this conversation, and I'd hated it both times. "I need you to listen to me, and try to hear what I'm saying from my point of view, instead of judging it from the stance of what people in the 'Burg would say."

She rolled her eyes, but I waited until she conceded and said, "I'll try."

"How long had you known me before you heard me laugh?" I asked, trying to ease my way into the conversation.

She looked confused, but I waited until she tried to answer the question. "I'm not sure, but it had to be months. I got some smiles along the way, but no real laughs at first."

"Did you know that two years ago, my mother accused me of being emotionally disconnected?" I pushed, trying to cover my point from multiple angles.

Steph blinked a few times, probably trying to make sense out of what I was saying.

"I've never had a hard time pushing myself to work, to achieve, to produce. Whatever needed to be done, I did it. But between the two of us, one of the reasons I continued to renew my contract with the government was because despite how much I earned, there was still hollowness to my existence. I had everything I needed, but I didn't have anything that provided a real purpose for what I had, other than the same duties I'd always worked under."

Steph's head tilted to the side in a gesture unique to her when she was deep in thought.

"You were the first person to try and reach me on any level beyond the surface. Honestly, you scared the shit out of me when I realized how adept you were at getting to me and how much I loved having you close. I had no idea that I needed the warmth you brought to me until you had given it freely and I pushed it away. You fought for us against every defense I lobbed your way. You don't see it as comparable, and in many respects, you're right. What you've given me means a hell of a lot more than me throwing around some money. I'm giving a tiny piece of what I have, but you give me everything you have, without holding anything back in reserve."

I hated it when I tried to make a deep point and felt that my words were somehow lacking. A more verbose man probably could have made the argument better, and I feared that because of how brief my speech had been that it would be discounted.

The longer she waited to respond, the more I wondered if I'd gotten through. Finally, she broke the silence. "But I still feel like I'm taking from you when you spend money on me."

"Do you remember what happened Thursday night?" I asked, hoping I could end this debate once and for all.

She thought back, and then recounted, "You had a take down of a guy that had been molesting children. After you dropped him off at the station, you came back for a shower. You'd been in there for a long time by your standards, so I slipped in to check on you, and you pulled me in, clothes and all, to join you."

I smiled at the memory of the look on her face when she realized she was soaking wet beside me in the shower. "I was standing there, leaning on the tile, unable to let go of the images from the case file against him, the pictures of those children, and the fact that he'd gotten to so many before we tracked him down. I felt like I'd failed them all by not piecing the clues together quicker and stopping him sooner. But you took one look at me and spoke of all the children I'd protected, and then you refused to let me disagree with you as you continued to spin what had happened, until I began to let go of the guilt. There was a time when I buried shit like that after a take down and used it to distance myself from everyone else."

I took a step closer, hating the distance between us while talking about a memory like that. "But now, I find myself being drawn to you, needing you to help me process what's happened so that I don't shut down a little more with every case. You willingly face the demons of my life to keep me from pulling away from humanity. Don't tell me that you're taking from me. The few token things I've managed to give you are nothing compared to the constant gift you give to me."

"Even if that were true, the world doesn't look at it like that," she argued weakly.

I cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. "I don't give a shit about the world. I only care about how _we_ look at it. You give me something no other person has ever attempted to give, and I know that what I've done in return is a weak comparison, but it's all I have to give."

She put her hands on top of mine. "But you've given me just as much. I mean, you're the one I'd run to when I was in trouble. You're the one that gave me a safe place to crash, and you are the only one that can chase away the dreams when my past catches up to me."

I smiled at the thought of doing the things she'd listed. I knew it wasn't a drop in the bucket compared to what she'd done for me, but I was still proud of what she pointed out as things I'd given to her.

"We can't fight over this for the rest of our lives," I stated, afraid that was exactly what was going to happen anyway.

"How about you don't try and sneak your money in when you think I'm not looking, and I'll try not to fight you at every turn along the way?" she countered.

I was almost afraid to ask, but needed to understand where we stood. "Does this mean you will let me spend a little money on you?"

She smiled warmly at me, and I could feel the effect it had in my chest. When she got an expression like that on her face, I relaxed and felt warmer, regardless of what I was doing. "It means I'm going to try to remember that being in a relationship that's working is as strange to you as it is to me, and that you aren't trying to make me indebted to you, but you're just trying to show me how you feel."

Before I could relax too much into what she said, she added, "Of course, there will still be times that I'll accuse you of spending too much on me, and I'm sure I'll complain about it, but I'll try to see your point of view, too."

I kissed her forehead, and then pulled back to agree. "That's all I can ask."

"Good, because that's all I can give on this," she teased in return.

We stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other, until her stomach growled and I realized I was pretty hungry, too. Fortunately, while we were out looking at cars, Ella had dropped off dinner, and it was in a crock pot, staying warm on the counter.

Dinner was relaxed, with Stephanie giving me a few more details of her revenge against Joyce. As much as I wanted to warn her about possible retribution, I found that I couldn't trample on her joy.

She ended her recap by stating, "I know I probably shouldn't have done it, and once she puts it together, I'll need to look over my shoulder, but just for the few minutes where she was panicking over not being able to hear, it was totally worth it."

"Hector will look out for you," I told her, knowing it was true.

She burst out laughing, and then explained, "He'd better! It was his damn brain child; watching my back is the very least he can do."

"How is it, working with him?" I asked, curious, since she'd never come out and given me an opinion one way or the other.

"I love it," she blurted out, proving the honesty of her words. "He answers all my questions, he teaches me stuff, and he always explains why when I ask."

I knew the why of things was a big deal to Stephanie, so if Hector could answer that question, it would motivate her more than any threat he could attempt.

"He doesn't laugh at me, either."

My expression instantly fell. "Who laughs at you?" I asked, knowing she would only say something like that if it weren't in stark contrast to how someone else had treated her.

She shrugged, and I worried that she was going to attempt to blow it off as though it weren't a big deal. "I don't really know of anyone, but it feels like everyone treats me differently except him. When I'm out in public, I feel people staring at me, and I wonder if they're laughing when I leave; even around my friends, I feel like they are still handling me as though I'll break."

"Do I treat you differently?" I began to speed process how I treated her now compared to before her accident.

"Well, yes, but I think it's because we're sleeping together, and not because I can't hear," she pointed out to my great relief.

She tried to explain a little more, but seemed to struggle to find words. "Hector doesn't let me get away with anything. He calls me on every little safety slip up, he pushes me in the gym, he refuses to let me hide when I'm nervous about talking to clients in the field. When I complain, he listens, but I think it's only because he knows I need to get it out of my system, because I've never once changed his mind when he says I can do something and I don't agree."

I was glad she had someone like him in her life. I knew I challenged her, too, but there was a limit to how hard I would push a point. She was my woman, and it hurt me to force her into a situation she wasn't comfortable with. It sounded like Hector didn't have that same soft spot, which was a good thing. She needed someone like him, and although I never would have guessed it a few months ago, he seemed uniquely able to be what she needed in a friend right now.

As she spoke, I saw her motioning a little more, but instead of them being empty hand gestures from her Italian heritage, I recognized them as signs.

"Did you know Tank was taking a sign language course?" I blurted out, remembering how this day began at the monitors.

She laughed at the abrupt change in the subject. "Sure. How else do you think he could keep up with me and Hector when we sign in the break room?"

I made a note to go in the break room more often. Obviously, my good intentions to let the guys have a place without a boss to relax meant I was missing too much stuff. Between Tank's threats of Ella cooking sweets and now Tank hanging out with Steph and Hector in there, I needed to get my finger back on the pulse of this company.

"When you were on your last mission and Joe and I broke up, Tank was checking up on me, and I made an off handed comment about how guys tended to be unreliable. He challenged me on such a stereotype and told me he'd never let me down. I pushed back, because I was in a really bitchy mood, and told him that it was true, but that he wasn't around that much, so I didn't really depend on him, either. He ripped a piece of paper out of a book in his truck, wrote an address on it, and told me every Tuesday, he would be at that address for lunch – that I could call it Tuesday's with Tank and meet him there anytime I needed to. I could show up or not, and it didn't matter, because I could depend on him being there."

That might have surprised some people, but I knew Tank – better than most – and I knew if there was one trait he prided himself on, it was that he was dependable. Plus, I knew he ate his lunch at the same diner twice a week every week as a way to support the owner, who he admired. He was going to be there anyway, but I didn't feel the need to clue her in about that little fact. It was completely beside the point.

"The first week, I blew it off, but the next week, I decided to test him and showed up at the diner. I saw him sitting at a window booth with his back to the wall. We had a nice lunch, and I figured he'd met his obligation and proven his point, so I began to test him, going two out of four weeks, and he was always there. A couple of weeks ago, I went again for the first time since my accident. I didn't really think he'd be there, since I'd missed three in a row, but he was there waiting. Before I could say a word, he started signing, and he told me about this intensive class he'd been taking so that we could still have our lunches. I burst into tears at the lengths he had gone through to show me he cared about me. I had to pull myself together, because it looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack, not knowing how to comfort me, and I hated to get him so worked up."

I didn't have much room to talk, but I knew Tank was even worse than me when it came to emotions. I could easily picture the worried expression that must have taken over his face when she got emotional. Of course, this story, and his intentional effort to be there for her when I was gone, suddenly helped to put a lot of pieces together regarding how protective he was of her when I returned banged up from my mission.

"But still, it was that lunch that I realized I was so lucky. I mean, I know I've been through a lot, but I'm surrounded by this great group of people, and the world's sexiest man. Despite it all, I have more to be thankful for than I do to fret over, so that makes me pretty fortunate."

I couldn't agree with her more. Those same men had stood by my side through the worst this world could throw at us. We were bonded to each other in ways I couldn't begin to describe or explain, and Stephanie understood it exactly, because they treated her the same way.

Lucky didn't begin to explain how I felt...

I was blessed.


	20. Listen Up

_None of the characters below belong to me. JE gets all the credit._

_Jenny (JenRar) none of the clarity of writing belongs to me either. You deserve that praise as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 20 – Listen Up**

"I hate waiting," Stephanie announced for the second time in the last four minutes as we sat in the exam room of her Ear, Nose, and Throat Specialist's office, waiting for him to arrive.

She jumped up and looked at the cartoonish diagram hanging on the wall of the inner ear, giving Bobby a chance to get my attention.

"Nerves?" he asked, trying to explain her behavior.

I nodded my agreement. While Stephanie had definitely begun to accept her hearing loss and had made every possible accommodation to overcome her lack of hearing, having it confirmed as permanent was something else entirely. I knew her skills of denial probably enabled her to live with the hope that one day she might hear again.

Before the tension, and her pacing, could affect us all, the door to the room swung open, and the doctor entered with a smile. Stephanie spun around as he walked over to shake her hand.

The doctor took his time talking to Stephanie first, and I was as surprised as Bobby when she reported the ringing would come and go – or at least her awareness of it did. She also confessed that over the last few days, she could swear she was hearing really loud sounds, but she couldn't confirm if she was hearing the noise or just feeling the vibration, as it was only when there were intense levels of noise. Again, I was shocked to hear this, as she had said nothing to me. The doctor dutifully made notes of all her responses, and then stood to begin his exam.

She'd had an MRI earlier in the week, a computerized hearing assessment this morning, and after a long period of staring in her ear, he finally pulled up a stool and began signing to her. I was glad that he was focused on communicating with her directly, as it helped her to feel in control of her own body and prognosis. At the same time, I didn't like feeling shut out of her treatment. Obviously, she'd been hiding things from me regarding her hearing, and I didn't appreciate the fact that she was the only one getting all the information from the doctor now.

Bobby was squinting, as though trying to figure out everything the doctor was signing, but unable to mentally slow down the motions enough to read them.

I noticed their interactions getting shorter and shorter, and then the doctor stood up and announced, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

I waited until the door closed, and then stared at Stephanie. She bent her head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment, but I refused to ask what in the hell the doctor had said and why she hadn't shared any of the information she'd told the doctor with me before today.

Finally, she turned and looked at me. "I know you're probably upset that I didn't say anything about what I thought I was hearing. But I wasn't sure if I was right or not, and I didn't want to get your hopes up that I might be getting better if there was no chance of that."

I moved forward so she'd stay focused on me. "You know I don't care if your hearing changes or not. I do care about you keeping things from me." I wasn't sure I could explain how that affected me.

"I know you're probably pissed at me, but I just couldn't talk about it, because I was afraid if I said it out loud, I would jinx it or something," she responded.

It wasn't that I didn't understand what she was saying, but there was a bigger issue here than her irrational fear that speaking something aloud would negate it. "I'm not pissed, I'm hurt, and there's a big difference."

Stephanie's face completely transformed, and for the first time since I met her, I wished that every emotion she felt wasn't so clearly visible, making it possible to know exactly what she was feeling. She hadn't considered that I would be hurt by her confession, and hearing me admit it confused her at first, and then regret immediately took over her features. When her eyes began to moisten, I stood up and moved to stand in front of her. I wasn't sure what had happened, but even though I was the one that had been hurt, I was about to apologize. Thank God Bobby was like a doctor and I could threaten him to keep everything that happened here under the seal of confidentiality for medical reasons.

"Babe, I wasn't trying to upset you, but I had hoped that over the last couple of months, we had built something strong enough that you trusted me to hold onto your secrets," I began gently.

"I do trust you, more than anyone I've ever known," she quickly defended.

I raised an eyebrow and challenged her, "With everything except the most important thing going on in your life right now."

The tears that had been threatening escaped down her checks, and I moved to brush them away. "Don't cry," I pleaded. "I know you had your reasons, and in the past, I would have done exactly the same thing, so I'm hardly one to judge. But standing on this side of the secrecy, I have to admit that I don't like it. I want to know everything about you – the little day to day things that seem insignificant, and the truly huge things that carry the burden of changing your life. I want to know it all."

"I should have told you," she admitted, the slightly slurred sounds coming through her speech once more.

"Tell me now," I suggested, hoping she would let me know more than I was able to pick up from her conversation with the doctor.

She shrugged, still trying to convince herself it was no big deal, but I could see the wish for something more on her face as she spoke. "It started with the explosion the day Hector helped me teach Joyce a lesson. Hector had us hide behind a car when he pushed the detonator. I could have sworn that I heard something when it exploded, but I wasn't sure if it was because I really had, or because I saw it happen and the boom probably made enough vibrations to be felt across the lot."

I could see why that didn't register enough to bring up at the time. I probably would have put it off as her mind adding sound to go with the visual.

"Then the next day, Hector and I went to a client's office because their alarm was going off from a staff member tripping it accidently, and then keying in the wrong code, freezing it in the alarm position."

I knew that was a downside to some of our older alarm systems, but a few clients refused to get rid of them and upgrade, which meant from time to time, we had to shut them off for the client.

"We pulled up, and Hector handed me a set of ear plugs and signed that the alarms were high pitched and really loud. I just stared at him until he took them back. I mean, the damage was already done. Why did it matter if I covered my ears now? But as soon as we walked in, I felt my ears start ringing – at least, I thought they were ringing. I had to run back out to the truck and get a different tool to finish the job, and as soon as I left the store, the ringing stopped, but when I reentered, it started up once more. Then, when Hector finally shut off the alarm, I realized what I'd been hearing had stopped, as well. It made me wonder if maybe I was hearing the alarm and it wasn't just a relapse of the ringing."

That instance probably wouldn't have made me jump to the possibility of her gaining any hearing, either.

"Then yesterday, I was running some searches, when Lester came back from the take down, where he'd leapt off the porch and tackled the skip when he tried to run. I was vaguely aware of the guys getting up and surrounding him, but I was still focused on my screen. Then I could have sworn I heard a Tarzan yell. I asked Lester about it, and he told me the guys were picking on him for the running jump, so he'd decided to join in their fun. That was the first time when I couldn't explain away what I thought I'd heard. There was no way I'd made up a Tarzan yell, so I figured I must have heard some of it. I wouldn't say it was clear, and he was literally right behind my chair, screeching at the top of his lungs when he did it, but I definitely caught something," she said, her eyes practically begging for me to agree with her that there was a reason to hope.

I gave her a small smile. "I would have loved to celebrate the possibility with you when that happened," I told her, feeling like an ass for taking the joy off her face, "but I can understand why you wanted to hang onto it for a little while, knowing we would be here this morning."

"Are you still upset with me?" she asked tentatively.

I pulled her to me instead of answering directly, hoping that the warmth of my embrace would let her know what my words were not. I heard the door open and pulled back, lowering my face to be level with hers to say, "I'm not upset. I wish I'd known, but I can see why you wanted to keep it to yourself until you knew for sure what was going on."

The doctor pulled out a strange looking chart with jagged lines on it and set it on the exam table where we could all see it. For the next ten minutes, he explained the results of the hearing test Stephanie had undergone earlier this morning. He signed and spoke, which allowed us all to get the information. He showed us how the low and mid range of Stephanie's hearing, where most of the spoken word would register, was still non-existent. Based on the exam, he was confident in saying that she would never regain that hearing. He also explained that because of the nerve damage of the prolonged exposure to such harsh sounds, he didn't feel that she was a good candidate for surgery to repair either the bones or the drum itself. He could do it, but in his opinion, it wouldn't make any difference.

Then he went on to explain about a device called a cochlear implant. A piece would be surgically installed in her head behind her ear, and a receiver would be snapped on the outside to convert auditory signals into electrical impulses rerouted directly to the nerve in the ear. Her body could be taught to interpret the impulses as sound. This device carried some restrictions that made him wary of suggesting it. First, he worried about her lifestyle. She would have an electronic device implanted in her head, meaning coming into contact with electrical signals – such as from stun guns – would be detrimental. Additionally, hard blows to the head at or near the device could also cause damage requiring surgery to repair or replace the device. Additionally, due to the nerve damage, he wasn't sure her body would even respond enough to risk the loss of the small amount of high end signal that her body was recognizing.

In his opinion, what Stephanie had interpreted as intermittent ringing was actually environmental noise that she was just unaccustomed to hearing, or it was coming through at too low of a level for her to pick up enough to understand and classify.

The large amount of data was making my head swim, and I didn't know where to begin with questions.

Fortunately, Bobby stepped forward and asked, "What would you suggest as a next step?"

The doctor sat back and looked between the three of us before responding. "I would suggest a matched set of hearing aids and a trial period. If there is a way to amplify the loud room noise to an acceptable level that your body can interpret, you could learn to adjust to hearing some sounds in that way to regain a sense of confidence about people startling you or sneaking up on you. I'm willing to pursue any of the other methods we've discussed, but I believe that with your lifestyle, which you have made amazing strides to reclaim, this is the best course of action. You will never hear the way you used to – there is just too much damage for that to be possible – but I would like to try this as a method for giving you another tool to adjust to the level of auditory input your body can process."

I noticed that he didn't apologize or soften his words. He was giving her the facts, plainly laid out for her to consider, but he offered no condolences for the news he was delivering. At first, I wondered why that was, but as Stephanie asked more questions about the point of having hearing aids if she had nerve damage, I realized this was what he dealt with for the better part of his day. In Stephanie's case, her hearing was, in effect, gone, but that wasn't something to mourn. Her life was continuing. The loss of her hearing wasn't a terminal diagnosis, and he wasn't treating it as such.

I had a feeling that his treating this so matter-of-factly was keeping Stephanie focused on the information and not on the permanence of what he had explained. She was now legally classified as deaf; nothing could change that. She had switched into the mode of how to deal with it. It was that character trait that I admired so much in her.

The doctor had taken away her ability to deny what was happening, so it was time to stand up and face the facts, and she never disappointed when she drew on that well of inner strength. It took twenty minutes of questions and answers, before she walked out with a prescription for a set of hearing aids, specifically geared to pick up and amplify the portions of the sound spectrum that her body could still hear, despite the damage to the nerve. He warned her that they would take a significant amount of getting used to, and not to expect them to allow her to hear everything, because that wasn't going to happen.

Then he brought up her speech and said that because she could no longer monitor her voice, she was beginning to slur a few sounds together. He told it was common and that she was doing surprisingly well, considering how long she'd been without her hearing. A brochure was placed in Stephanie's hands for a therapist that he felt could assist her in learning how to clear up her speech before the habits became ingrained enough, they were difficult to break. He promised her it wouldn't take long, but thought a series of sessions would make a big difference. I was relieved he'd brought it up so I didn't have to.

With that, he seemed to have shared everything necessary, so he wished us all good luck. Stephanie slid off the exam table to shake his hand and thank him for taking his time to explain everything in such detail.

The doctor stopped and looked her in the eye to say, "I see a lot of people for the same reason you are here, but there is something about how you have just jumped in, refusing to let this stop you, that makes me want to do everything possible to accommodate your zest for living. Many people turn inward over a loss like this, but you have stepped up and changed where you had to in order to continue moving with the life you want to live. Honestly, that's inspirational around here, so if there is anything I can do to help you, just name it."

I made a mental note to find a way to thank the doctor for his words. I could say the same thing to her, and she'd probably shrug it off as her lover having to encourage her. Hearing it from someone who sees stories like hers for a career put it in a certain perspective that she couldn't discount.

We made our way to the parking lot, and Bobby stopped to talk for a moment. He took her brochure and hearing aid prescription and promised to make appointments for both on her behalf. I knew that the wait for either of those might be weeks, but something told me he'd have her being seen within a day or two, tops. I was damn lucky to be surrounded by men who excelled in their fields. Bobby was a perfect example of that in the medical arena, and I wasn't the least bit hesitant to entrust him with overseeing Stephanie's care.

He took the information, promising to be in touch as soon as he had everything set up, and then jumped in his truck to head back to the office.

I glanced down at my watch and saw that the early appointment had taken the better part of the morning, so we were nearing the lunch hour. "How about Pino's for lunch?" I suggested.

Stephanie wasn't in denial, but she was definitely on overload, and I knew she needed some time and space to process everything she'd just learned. She nodded that lunch was okay, and we made our way to her new Pilot, which she'd insisted on us driving to her appointment.

I got behind the wheel, wanting to drive anytime we were together – not because I didn't trust her skills, but because I wanted to do anything she'd let me to care for her, and this was one of the things she didn't seem to fight me on.

When I pulled into the parking lot at Pino's, there were the typical sampling of cop cars, but the lot was far from crowded. It was only 1130 hours, which was still a little early for a true lunch rush.

The booth at the back was open, so I took the seat against the wall, leaving the bench opposite me for her. Neither of us needed a menu. We tended to get the exact same thing every time we were here, and since the foods offered hadn't changed in the last ten years, there was no chance of a new item being served that would be tempting.

"How are you?" I asked after we placed our order.

"I'm not sure," she responded with complete honesty. "I guess there is a piece of me that is disappointed. I'd hoped since I seemed to be showing some improvement that there was a chance things would continue to heal and I would regain a lot more of my hearing. But at the same time, it does seem like there are still some things to experiment with to get a little more sound from the world, so I'm not feeling completely bummed, either."

"I was glad the doctor said what he did as we were leaving today," I confessed.

"Why?" she jumped in.

"I have been so proud of the work you've done since the accident. He was right that a lot of people would have hidden away from the world, but you took a few days to learn some skills, you accepted the help of people who wanted to do something for you, and you returned to your life pretty quickly. You haven't let this stop you, and despite what you might think, it's damned impressive," I assured her.

She smiled at my word choice, and then said, "I don't remember you swearing as much as you seem to."

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her comment. "I try not to when I'm out in public. A lot of swearing is a sign of a person who has no control, and I don't want to give that impression. But when I'm around you, I've accepted the fact that I have no control, so you're probably going to get a lot more unedited thoughts than most people."

My words made her smile. "I hope so; I don't seem to have an editor when I'm around you, so it seems only fair that I'd get the rough draft version of your thoughts, too."

We talked for a few minutes more, before I realized she'd effectively changed the subject so that she wasn't the center of attention. She had a real knack for doing that. I was about to call her on it, when a couple of people approached the table.

I lifted my hand and pointed to Carl and Big Dog as they walked over to see Stephanie.

"Hey, guys," Steph greeted them as the old friends they were.

"Hey, Steph," Carl spoke first, a little slower than usual. I'd noticed a lot of people doing that who hadn't been around Stephanie much since she lost her hearing. She was perfectly adept at reading lips, and the speed with which people spoke didn't seem to impact her understanding.

"What's up?" she asked, as though she knew they weren't just stopping by for a social visit.

This time, Big Dog spoke, a little louder than necessary, again mistakenly trying to accommodate her hearing loss. "We got a strange report at the station from Joyce Barndhart, and we need to ask you a few questions."

Neither of them seemed too worked up, so I had a feeling it was a bit of a technicality, but I was still on alert; if Stephanie confessed what she had really done, there was the potential for charges to be filed.

Carl jumped in then. "She spent the morning with Robin, demanding that we arrest you for causing her to lose her hearing. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Wait," Stephanie interrupted for clarification, not because she couldn't figure out what he was saying, but because it made no sense. "Joyce is saying she still can't hear?"

Big Dog attempted to cover up a laugh as a cough, before saying, "That's right. She spent over an hour writing out notes with Robin by hand."

"Why didn't she just talk?" Stephanie blurted out with an obvious observation.

"Who knows," Carl responded, not hiding his annoyance. "Anyway, we read the report. We saw no evidence that your car was used as a weapon to deafen Joyce, so we don't see any grounds for charges, but we had to ask."

"Has she been to a doctor?" Stephanie asked.

"Robin asked her that, too," Big Dog disclosed. "She said she wasn't willing to have a doctor look at her, because then it would be a preexisting condition on her insurance."

"What an idiot," Stephanie said with a huff.

Both the guys laughed at her completely accurate assessment. Finally, she made a motion with her hand that I didn't recognize, but the look on her face that accompanied it made me believe it was the sign for a word her mother would not approve of.

"I'll see if I can talk to her. I promise you, I haven't made her deaf. It's not like I'm contagious or something. I'll see if I can get her to calm down and leave you guys alone," Stephanie promised, obviously not thrilled with the idea, but knowing that since she had caused this mess, she felt the need to clear it up.

The guys thanked her and left us alone to eat our lunch.

As soon as they walked out of Pino's, I leaned over and smiled. "I can't believe she hasn't let anybody check her ears."

"I've decided nothing she does surprises me anymore. Hopefully, she'll let me help her get it out, and then she'll be okay and will forget the whole thing happened."

There was that sense of denial she loved to bring out. I figured if Steph opened Joyce's ears, it would only provide evidence that she was responsible for it being in there in the first place. Hopefully, we could find a way to make her sound deranged enough that the police would refuse to act on any future allegations.

While I was running through possible defenses, Steph interrupted my thoughts and said, "So, the police ball is in a couple of days."

"That's right," I agreed, wondering why she was bringing it up.

"Did you have any trouble getting guys to go?" she asked around the last bite of her sub.

"No. This year, I announced that I had eighteen tickets, which would allow nine couples to join us at the banquet and dance, and within five minutes, they were all gone," I told her, reporting the record speed with which people had volunteered to go this year. I'd always gotten rid of the tickets, but never that quickly.

"Why did they volunteer so quickly?" she asked, something I'd wondered, too.

"Tank says it's because they've seen how happy we are together, and they all want something similar in their own lives," I told her.

She picked up a napkin to finish cleaning off the marinara sauce while considering what I'd said to her. "That Tank is pretty smart," she finally admitted, making me laugh at her word choice.

"I'll let him know what you think," I told her, knowing I couldn't wait to pick on the big guy for the surprise with which Stephanie admitted to his apparent intelligence.

"What I mean is that's the kind of answer I'd expect from Lester, who'd have overheard it in conversation while hanging out with the guys. But I have a feeling Tank had to intuit that from their behavior, which means in addition to all his other skills, he's a master of reading people, too. I learn something new about him every day," she clarified, only adding more fuel to the fire for me to use later.

"I have a feeling he doesn't want people to know," she mused, possibly stating her thoughts aloud, not intending me to hear. "Maybe like Hector understands English, but doesn't advertise it, because it allows him to listen to the guys and pick up on all kinds of things. Tank stays quiet, which lets the guys think he either isn't listening or isn't interested, but really, he's studying them without them being aware of it."

She was exactly right – at least about Tank. His size made people notice him immediately upon entering a room; I mean, you'd have to be blind to miss someone like him. But he had the ability appear unengaged so that you discounted him quickly, and then his lack of movement allowed him to somehow blend into the background, where people would forget about him. He'd gotten plenty of intel just sitting at a table doing what appeared to be nothing.

"Was there a reason you asked about the ball?" I wondered.

"I just need to know who I'll be dancing with that night," she replied quickly.

I threw down the money to cover our meal and sizable tip, and then stood up to offer her my hand. Once she was standing directly in front of me, close enough that our bodies were touching, I told her, "You'll be dancing with me that night."

"What?" she challenged with her new confidence. "You don't share?"

I couldn't stop the growl that came out in response to her words. "Hell, no, I don't share. I might consider backing off enough to let you dance with a friend or two, but make no mistake – you're mine."

I saw and felt the shiver that went through her body at my words and raised an eyebrow, challenging her to debate the point. She surprised me when she didn't push me back on my possessive stance, but responded, "Just remember, I feel the same way."

Then she spun her hot little body around and walked to the exit. I watched her leave, a little distracted by the way her jeans framed the view I was given.

I'd always thought having a woman lay a claim on me would feel suffocating and stifling, but hearing it come from Stephanie's mouth was a turn on. I was hers, and instead of it making me feel claimed, I felt like I belonged.

Well, it made me feel a lot more than that, but I needed to get her to Haywood to show her the rest of it.


	21. And They Lived Happily Ever After

_I did not create the Plum world below, nor any of the characters depicted._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you so much for your hard work as the beta on this story. Start to finish, you have made a difference in how this turned out, and I can't thank you enough for all you've done._

**Chapter 21 – And They Lived Happily Ever After**

"Hey, boss." Bobby came in and sat in the guest chair without an invitation.

"Was it time for my annual physical?" I asked, trying to point out that was the only time each year when he held the upper hand.

"Nope," he responded with a smile, telling me he understood what I was insinuating, but wasn't sufficiently intimidated enough to leave. "I thought you might want to know that the Joyce threat had been handled."

"What do you mean, 'handled'?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear this.

Bobby explained, "I ran into Hector and Steph at the dinner on Fourth Street and had lunch with them. While we were eating, Joyce Barnhardt came strolling in and walked right over to Stephanie, yelling like a banshee about how Stephanie had ruined her life."

I didn't like the ways this could go wrong. If Steph lost her temper and began yelling back at Joyce in a public place, a lot of courtroom defenses had just gone out the window.

Unphased by my side thoughts, Bobby kept talking. "Steph pulled a tablet from her bag and started writing away, before handing it to Joyce to read. They swapped the pencil back and forth for a while, and finally, Joyce shrugged her shoulder and sat beside Stephanie, giving her the chance to look in her ear. They passed a few more notes around, and then Steph dug out some tweezers and went after the wax she'd stuffed in Joyce's ear before her car went to its great reward. She repeated the process on the other side, and then asked Joyce how she felt. Joyce burst into tears, asking what Stephanie had done."

At least I knew the way she'd dealt with the situation was to make it right. As much fun as I know it had been to see how poorly Joyce had handled the situation, it wasn't right to leave her without her hearing, either. This was another example of how Stephanie was a gracious woman to handle the wrath of someone like Barnhardt and still find enough kindness to help her.

"Then Stephanie laid out some kind of shit story about how when your ears are exposed to a really loud sound like an explosion, as a defense mechanism, they will sometimes drop a wax guard to protect the ear from additional damage, and that as long as a person cleans it out right away, there are no issues. But since Joyce didn't get it out, it hardened and set in, blocking her hearing for the last week. Now that Stephanie had cleaned her ears, Joyce could hear, and all would be well. Then she made some offhanded comments about how people would probably be really grossed out to hear that it was just a wax build up that caused her hearing to go away, so she might not want to share that around town. Joyce seemed thrilled to have her hearing back, agreed that she didn't want people to know what had really happened, and ran out with a smile on her face. I'm pretty sure Steph just cleared her name, healed Joyce miraculously, and covered her tracks all at once."

I couldn't help but laugh a little at how Stephanie's quick thinking to make up a reason of why Joyce had lost her hearing and how she was able to bring it back sitting in a dinner was bought so easily. None of us considered Stephanie to be a decent liar, but I guess when you're as desperate as Joyce was, you'll grasp at anything to make yourself feel better.

"I'm glad she managed to clear that up before the ball tonight. I was afraid Joyce might be there, and with the police force present, I didn't want any accusations to start flying that might cause trouble for Stephanie," I told him.

"I still can't believe Joyce bought everything Stephanie told her, but I'm glad that's been handled so we don't have to look out for her anymore," Bobby agreed, summing up the same thing I felt.

Without another word, he jumped up and left, prompting me to look at the clock. I'd finished the paperwork on the takedowns I'd done this afternoon and knew I should head upstairs to check on Stephanie and see where she wanted me to get ready for tonight. I wasn't sure if she needed to commandeer the bathroom for the next two hours, or if I would be allowed fifteen minutes for a shower and shave or not.

I found Stephanie standing in front of the closet in just a matching bra and panty set, with a garter belt holding up some black stockings. I gave myself a minute to enjoy the view, before realizing I either needed to really enjoy it, or leave the room, because standing here wasn't helping me to get ready for the night.

I moved behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, enjoying the warm feel of her back against my body. She melted against me, and I took a minute to hold her, loving the way she made me feel when we were this close.

She was the one that found the strength to pull away first in order to look at me and ask, "Are you sure this dress is the right one for tonight?"

"I'm sure," I replied, wanting her to see nothing but certainty on my face. While she was still absorbing my reply, I asked if I could use the shower, and she motioned for me to go ahead.

I could tell her hair hadn't been fixed, so I knew she was probably hoping I would get out quickly, motivating me to move as efficiently as possible. When I stepped out of the shower and reached for my towel, Stephanie put it in my hand, not bothering to hide her appreciation for the brief glimpse of me freshly showered and still uncovered.

I slowly brought the towel behind me to cover my hips and smiled when she licked her lips, staring at me the whole time.

After I tied the towel around my waist, I waited for her to gather herself before she could speak.

"Umm…"

I couldn't deny how cute I found her distracted state to be.

"I wanted to work on my hair, and I know you need to shave, so can we share the counter?" A quick shake of her head brought her focus back up to my face to see how I responded.

I grasped the towel, as though checking to see that it was secured, and laughed when her eyes followed my hands, instead of staying up on my face to wait on a response.

When she brought her gaze back to my mouth, I nodded that it was fine with me. I watched her pull out the caddy with all the tools she claimed to need to get ready. Personally, I couldn't think of anything more beautiful than Stephanie just as she was, but I wasn't going to stand in the way of the work she wanted to do to feel more confident going out tonight.

I did find it distracting to have her sharing the mirror beside me. I didn't mind it, but I found myself watching her apply all kinds of lotions and gels, instead of paying attention to what I was doing. Fortunately, I managed to get rid of my stubble without slicing my face, keeping me from having to defend my distracted state to the guys who would be there tonight.

After I finished, I leaned against the wall and watched her, responding when she'd ask a question, but mainly just taking a moment to sit back and enjoy the fact that we'd managed to survive what would have ruined some couples, and in the midst of it, establishing ourselves in a comfortable relationship, overcoming hurtles that I thought were insurmountable a year ago. I couldn't really pinpoint when it happened, but the fullness in my chest made me glad it had.

Slipping on the diamond earrings I'd had made especially for her, she looked up at me as I finished tying the bowtie to my tux and asked, "Can I make a suggestion?"

I looked down to be sure I hadn't forgotten anything and was glad to see I was still capable of pulling myself together. I thought I looked good, so I was curious as to what she wanted to change, "What?"

She moved to stand in front of me and reached behind my head to pull out the tie I'd just put in my hair, running her fingers through it to pull it back down around my face, resting on my shoulders. "Wear your hair down tonight."

Of course I'd do it – I'd do so much more than that if she ever asked – but I was still curious, "Why?"

"I like it that way," she confessed, looking slightly embarrassed. "A lot." Then she seemed to find that storeroom of confidence and added, "And I'm feeling a little nervous about dancing there, since I know it won't be the same as it was in the club. With your hair down, everyone will be staring at you and ignoring me, so the pressure won't be as great to not embarrass myself."

I put my hands on her hips and pulled her even closer to tell her, "I hate to break it to you, Babe, but the way you look in that dress, every male eye is going to be focused on you and unable to look away."

She blushed at my words, only enhancing her beauty. I let her go and held out my elbow as an invitation to go downstairs.

We took her Pilot, because she said she didn't want to ride in a work truck, and I didn't want her to have to get in and out of the Porsche. I knew she loved the Turbo, but it seemed unfair to ask her to try and get in and out of it in that dress, since it rode so low to the ground.

I allowed the valet to park the car, since it was Stephanie's and it didn't have any weapons in it, other than the hidden well in the trunk that only Stephanie, Hector, and I had keys to. I did glare at the valet driver, who had the poor judgment to stare at Stephanie when she stepped out of the SUV. The split up the side of her dress promised a view that would make his night, but she put her hand on her thigh before the dress could ride up far enough to deliver.

As we walked away, Stephanie leaned toward me and said, "You should be ashamed of yourself for scaring that kid. He's probably trying to get his heart started after the way you glared at him."

I turned so she could see me and replied, "He's lucky all I did was glare. If you hadn't stopped the show he was hoping for and he'd gotten an eye full, I was going to have to knock him out to erase the memory."

She laughed as though she thought I were kidding, and I decided it was best to let her carry that assumption into the ball.

As soon as we walked in, I was hit with the sound of smooth jazz from a live band in the corner. I knew the level was too low for Stephanie to feel the sound the way she had at Intensity, but I still felt like we could dance to it with no problems.

I had to chuckle at our different approaches to taking in the room. As I was scanning the crowd and checking out the music level, Stephanie was breathing deeply, before guessing, "Oh, there's chicken, and the sauce smells great. I can't wait to taste it."

She never disappointed with her ability to find fun wherever she went. I led her to the area where the guys and their dates were currently sitting, and all of them stood as we approached the tables.

Stephanie joked, "Geez, guys, we aren't at the office, and this isn't a military base. You don't have to acknowledge that Ranger is the ranking officer every time he enters the room."

I knew their standing had nothing to do with me, but it was Lester that got her attention to correct her. "Beautiful, we aren't standing for Ranger. We stood for you. Damn, you look good."

I noticed his date glare up at him briefly, but he wasn't going to be deterred from what he wanted Stephanie to understand. One could say a lot of things about my cousin, but I had to admit that he didn't let anything stand in the way of what he felt, and whoever the flavor of the night was beside him wasn't going to get in the way of his friendship with the woman next to me.

I pulled out Stephanie's chair and waited as each of the guys introduced Stephanie to their dates for the evening. I could have been offended that they were going out of their way to introduce them to her and not me, or I could have thrown it off as their hope that Stephanie, being a female, would smile and say hello, making them feel welcome, but I knew neither of them were right. These men loved Stephanie, and since she was the glue that held us together, she also acted as the head of our unlikely family. Even if it had never been acknowledged, they wanted her approval and were basically presenting their dates to her in the hope that she would give them an opinion of the woman they were spending time with.

We arrived at the ideal time to be served dinner and ate easily with the guys. Stephanie had spent enough time with the men in the break room that they knew how to make a motion, usually putting their hand on the table above their plate, to get her attention before talking so that she would know to look at them. Some of their dates jumped right in and seemed to find a rhythm in the conversation. Those, I knew, would probably make it to another night out with the guys. The two that were quiet and seemed uncertain, I had a feeling wouldn't get another date, and before dinner was finished, I could tell that the daggers from Lester's date might end up causing him to send her home before the evening was even over.

After some well intentioned, but entirely too long, speeches, they opened the dance floor. The band was impressive for such a small group, and I looked at Steph, and then tilted my head toward the dance floor. She looked completely uncertain and commented, "I can't feel the music the way I could at Intensity. I'm not sure I can do this tonight with so many people who I know would just love to have another reason to laugh at me."

I hated to see that hint of fear holding her back from doing something I knew she wanted to do. I pushed a little more, hoping to find the words to help her get over the dread of whispers. "It's slow jazz, nothing fancy. Just put your arms around me and feel my rhythm." Then I winked at her. "You already know you can do that all night long."

She blushed, but nodded that she would do it. I pulled her chair back, and then held out my hand for hers. I couldn't stop the smile that came over my usually blank face as I felt every eye in the packed ballroom on us making our way to the edge of the dance floor.

Stephanie put her left arm around my shoulder, but put her right hand flat over my chest. I understood the position and covered her hand with mine, slipping my other hand to her hips to guide her to me. I began with a simple sway, letting her feel the rhythm in my legs and follow it without fear of messing up. Once I knew she had it, I spun her out, and then brought her back to me, even closer this time, moving us in more than just a circular pattern, forcing her to concentrate on me to follow my lead, instead of worrying over the people watching us. As the song ended, I dipped her over my arm and slowly brought her back up to me. With her nearly back upright, I kissed her, wanting to be sure that every person in this room understood. Stephanie and I were together, and nothing would interfere with that.

The song changed to something a little faster. I knew we could easily dance to this, as well, but decided to back off, giving her a chance to sit down and have some coffee at the table.

As soon as we sat down, I saw Morelli coming over and pointed him out so that Steph could turn to see him. He bent down and kissed her check, lingering a little longer than I thought was necessary, but I managed to hold back from pointing that out in order to keep the peace in a room full of cops.

Stephanie reached back and took my hand in hers. I appreciated it on several levels. Anytime she was touching me, I found it so much easier to stay calm and in control. Plus, Morelli noticed it, too, so I knew she was sending him a message as well, and it gave me a brief temptation to bang my fists on my chest and announce that the better man had won and that he could just take that piece of news and back the hell off.

"Where's your wife?" Stephanie asked, looking around.

Morelli rubbed his neck and looked down, giving away just how nervous that question made him. I couldn't imagine her leaving him, so I wondered why she wasn't here. Finally, he found the balls to look up and confess, "We found out the other day that she's pregnant, and she's been sick pretty much all day, so coming tonight wasn't possible."

"Oh Joe, I'm so excited for you," Stephanie exclaimed, beaming as she jumped up to hug him. Fortunately, she kept it short and didn't allow him to keep his hands on her. "Please tell her congratulations from all of us. Your mother must be thrilled."

Again, he lifted his hand, as though tempted to rub his neck again, but realized what he was doing and forced it down to his side quickly. "Oh yeah, Grandma Bella and Mama are at the house all the time, doting on her. They threw me out and told me to put in an appearance here. I felt like I was only needed for command performances while we were trying for a baby, and now that we've succeeded, I feel even less useful."

I looked at Tank, who was hiding his grin behind his water glass at the unintentional confession that the stud horse he had been was being let out to pasture now that his services were no longer required.

They talked for a few more minutes, before it began to get awkwardly quiet and Joe had the good sense to excuse himself, wishing us all a good night. There were a lot of eyes glancing from one person to the next, trying to be sure Joe was far enough away that he couldn't hear us responding to his current situation. Finally, it was Stephanie that couldn't take the suspense any longer and blurted out, "Is it just me, or does it seem like Joe getting everything he said he wanted with me hasn't made him happy at all?"

That was all it took for us to all burst out laughing.

I leaned closer to get her attention on me and say, "I think what he failed to understand is that it requires the right woman to make you happy, and forcing what you think you want, instead of letting your desires just happen naturally, isn't the same thing as your dreams coming true. If anything, it's the exact opposite."

She leaned forward and kissed me. It was light and soft, but it conveyed so much.

When we pulled back, Lester was the one that broke the silence and said, "Damn," except he drew it out to be at least two full syllables. "I don't care if it does mean the mats in the morning, you two are hot."

Tank helped me out by smacking the back of Lester's head. His date got up and stormed off, getting a chuckle from Stephanie, and I decided not to fully take the bait. Instead, I stood up and held out my hand to pull Stephanie back to the dance floor, since the band was playing something I liked.

Before we walked away, I informed my cousin, "Better make that appointment for the mats in a couple of days. I think I might not have enough energy for it in the morning, because I'm expecting this to be a long night."

Lester's face fell, as he fully understood what I was insinuating. The other guys were stuck between wanting to respond to the fact that I'd basically said I was going to be having hot, draining sex all night, and not wanting to disrespect Stephanie like that.

As we walked away, I heard Tank jumping on Lester again. "Man, you'd better get that image out of your head. Just because the boss man isn't up to a round on the mats tomorrow doesn't mean I won't do it to teach you a thing or two about how you should be thinking about Stephanie."

I guess it was time to think about a bonus for the big guy. He was an excellent second-in-command, and that was just one more piece of evidence about how he had my back.

"Do I want to know what you just said to Lester?" Stephanie asked as I pulled her tightly against me.

"Probably not," I admitted, not really wanting to confess to outing the fact that I was planning on us being so exhausted after tonight that I wasn't going to have the energy for a trip to the gym at my normal time.

"Probably not, that I don't want to know, or probably not, that you don't want to tell me you just announced to the guys that we were going to be having hot sex all night long?" she challenged.

I hoped that my ability to control my reactions was still intact, because I knew if I didn't keep a tight hold on my emotions right now, I was definitely going to start blushing, and then I'd be totally busted.

She touched my face with her hands and grinned at me. "I'll be damned... You _can_ blush."

If anything, her pointing out my failure only made the reaction that much more pronounced.

"That's got to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

I decided to try for a distraction and dipped her back far enough that she couldn't get up without my assistance. I held her there, bent back and vulnerable in front of me, long enough to take in the sight of her loose curls hanging down behind her and her breasts rising and falling from the increased breaths she was taking.

"You want to talk sexy?" I challenged.

She shook her head no, so I brought her back up to stand in front of me. "I don't want to talk. I want to dance with you until I'm tired of wearing shoes, and then I want you to take us back home and make love to me until we simply can't move anymore."

My body instantly responded to her confident words and standing so close together. There was no way to hide that fact from her.

She smiled slightly and added, "I said I wanted to dance first," and then her eyes dropped between us, and she added, "That part isn't until later tonight."

I pulled her to me and let her drop her head to my shoulder. It minimized the movements we could make, but I loved having her that close, so I definitely wasn't complaining.

I couldn't stop the habit of checking out the crowd around us, always looking for a threat, and noticed Joe was staring at us. I lifted my head to acknowledge him and couldn't help but think about his life. I looked down at Stephanie leaning against me with her eyes shut, sharing our space so easily.

I spent so much time running away from Stephanie and putting up walls to keep her out that I almost missed out on the woman that was perfectly made to share my life. We'd come together at a time when we both felt broken, and we'd decided to step outside our comfort zone and admit that we wanted to see what would happen if we dropped our walls and came together.

The hell that had exploded around us then would have torn most people apart, but we'd turned inward and come together, instead. I was convinced we were stronger because of the time we'd spent together. I had fought relationships for years, thinking they would weaken me, while the opposite had turned out to be true. Letting this miracle into my life had made me a better boss, a better son, and a better friend to the men I worked with.

I tightened my arms around Stephanie, and her head popped up. She looked at me without speaking, causing me to ask, "Are you tired? Are you ready to go home?"

I was up for whatever she wanted, but I remembered she wanted to stay until her feet were so tired, she wanted to take off her shoes. I knew she prided herself on her ability to function in her ridiculously sexy and impractical shoes, so I doubted we'd reached that point yet.

"I'm not tired, but I'm definitely ready to go home," she admitted, maintaining eye contact, but tilting her head down slightly in an alluring way. I doubted she realized what an effect it had on me, but it was immediate.

I moved my hand to grip her and spun her around to walk in front of me. We needed to get her purse, and I needed her to block the guys' view of my pants. The tux I was wearing was fitted and didn't leave much room for the response Stephanie could get out of my body without even trying.

We made our excuses and left, despite the complaints from the guys. The ride may have been made in silence, but I could feel it only building up the tension of what was yet to come.

We managed to make it to the elevator at RangeMan without touching, but as soon as the door closed, she spun to me and kissed me. I wasn't sure if I hit the button for seven, but when the elevator began to move, I decided we'd get there eventually.

I knew the doors opened, but before I could move us out, I heard Cal's voice say, "Damn it, man. Hit seven and stop staring. Ranger will kick your ass if he thinks you were watching them like that."

I couldn't tell who he was talking to and decided I didn't care. I could continue trying to teach a lesson to every man that looked at my woman, or I could just accept that she was impossible to resist and despite them knowing better, some people were just too weak to look away.

Four hours later, I put a bottle of water in Stephanie's hands and laughed as she moaned from her first sip, as though the beverage were the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. I could understand the sentiment. When you were exhausted and dehydrated, cold water was the best thing in your mouth.

I took the bottle from her after she draped herself back over me when I laid down.

"I had a good time with you tonight," she confessed softly.

I hummed my agreement, since her eyes were shut, knowing she would get the message from the rumbling of my chest. I watched her smile in understanding as to what I meant.

Her eyes opened so unexpectedly that I was instantly on edge, wondering what had alarmed her enough to jar her awake like that. "Do you wish I could still hear?"

This was a dangerous question, and I knew I had to answer it, but I needed to be careful about what I said. "I don't feel like we're missing out on anything because you can't hear. If anything, I think it makes us even more compatible, because you are so much better at reading me that my lack of conversation isn't an impediment. But if you wish you could hear, then I wish there were a way to give that to you."

She seemed to think through that for a while, and then said, "If I stop and think about it, I wish I could hear so that I wouldn't forget the sound of your voice, or some of the softer things that I miss. But unless I pause and let it come up in my mind, I don't think I miss it anymore."

"Good," I replied, meaning it. "That means you've accepted what you have and aren't pining away, wishing for what can't be. It's a sign of maturity."

"No, it's a sign that I'm so happy with the other elements of my life that I don't have time to think about what I'm missing," she corrected me. "I think that's better than maturity."

I had to agree with that. "What elements are making you that happy?"

She ran her index finger down my chest and said, "You."

I hummed again so she would feel my approval of her response.

"And there's Hector—"

I forced myself not to react to her mentioning another man as an element of her joy.

"You suggested us working together, and he's gone out of his way to make me feel like I'm contributing. He lets me provide the people skills when he makes service calls, and I let him provide the intimidation when we pick up skips. It's fun going out, and I don't feel like a failure at my job."

I was going to tell her that she was never a failure at her job, but she jumped in again.

"You know, when I first lost my hearing, I think a lot of people assumed I would have to stop working entirely, or at the very least, stop working with people. But I'm actually working _more_ with people and doing a better job at it than I did _with_ my hearing."

I wanted to tell her that she always had this potential, but the time she was spending on prep work and planning was why she felt so much more successful now, but again, she continued before I could speak.

"And the guys have been so great. I used to think most of them just put up with me because you made them, but they've all gone out of their way to make me feel a part of RangeMan since I moved in, and I don't think they would do that if they thought of me as just the woman that was screwing their boss."

I grimaced at her description of what we were to each other. I may blanch at the title boyfriend, but she was not just the woman I was screwing. We were so much more than that. I hated that there wasn't a title that truly fit us.

"I guess I'm happy because I've let go of the feeling that I have to try and make everybody else happy. Getting rid of that pressure has done wonders for how I feel," she concluded, really seeing her current situation in the right light.

I pushed her hair back, using the conversation as an excuse to bury my hand in her curls. "I've never been this happy, either."

"Really?" She seemed surprised by my statement.

"Really," I assured her. "When I came back from my mission, things were different around here. The guys were a little more relaxed, Tank wasn't holding anything back, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Looking back on it now, I can't believe I seriously considered trying to use force and discipline to get the guys back in line after my absence.

"But when I decided that I was tired of fighting to keep you at arm's length, and then I started looking at everything differently. I remembered that a lot of these guys were my friends before they were my employees, and I've begun to act that way again."

I ran my hand down her cheek, before laying it all out there, "But the most important reason that I'm happy is because of you. You love me, you call me on my shit when I'm wrong, you share in the business that means so much to me, and you even like spending time with my crazy family. You accepted me and let me love you. How could I not be happy?"

"I think the same thing could be said about me," she said, turning it on me. Thinking about it, she was probably right. We both needed to be accepted for who we were, not changed into something different.

"I love you, Babe," I told her, wanting to be sure she understood what all the rambling I'd just done really boiled down to.

"I love you, too, Carlos," she returned, running her fingers softly across my chest.

We sat there in silence, totally comfortable wrapped around each other, and I sighed. Damn, Stephanie had worn off on me in the strangest ways. A year ago, I could only see the signs of how my life could ruin Stephanie's if I let her get too close, and in focusing only on that, I'd missed all the ways us being together would make our lives better.

Thank God Tank had hung up on me, forcing me to sit in silence and figure out how I felt about this woman in my arms, or I might have missed my chance to have her at all.

I looked at Stephanie and saw my fingers were absentmindedly tracing the ring finger on her left hand. How strange... I didn't usually go for her hands when I was touching her. Then the significance of the finger I was still rubbing hit me, and I smiled. Maybe it was a sign that I needed to put something on this finger – something sparkly and big. Not too big, I didn't think that would be her style.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that was exactly what I wanted to do. It seemed my life was being led by signs in more ways than just how Stephanie communicated. I shut my eyes and began to fall asleep, envisioning popping the question that would finally give me a relationship title I would be proud to have – husband.

Despite my claim that I was going to be too exhausted to get up early, I knew that I would be leaving as soon as Rodriguez Jewelry store opened. This would be the last night we spent without an official recognition of who we were to each other.

I could be called stubborn, hard, and even tough, but I wasn't stupid. I knew this time, I'd read the signs right, and I couldn't wait for tomorrow to act on it.

THE END!

_A/N: Wow, I can't believe we've brought Ranger and Stephanie to the end of their journey. I felt like this was a good place to leave them, as it is clear they will have a wonderful future and are solid in how they feel for each other._

_I have to say thank you to a few people who have been extraordinarily helpful throughout this story. First, to Jenny (JenRar), who has been the beta for Warning Signs. Thank you for signing on for another of my adventures and sticking with each chapter until it seemed right._

_For Maggie (Vulcan Rider), for sharing your own journey of loving someone who experienced the loss of their hearing and being honest and open about the changes you saw in him and in yourself from that unexpected change._

_And for ZKS, who has been the technical advisor for a lot of the fundamentals of Stephanie's journey for this story by sharing of her own hearing loss. Thank you for patiently answering my questions, and volunteering information about the medical/physical elements that I had not fully considered. But mostly, thank you for continuing to encourage me in writing this story, even when some very opinionated readers seemed to think allowing Stephanie to live her "normal" life without her hearing wasn't possible. I'm stealing your quote from the former president of Gallaudet University (I. King Jordan): "Deaf people can do anything except hear." Hopefully, I've given a little glimpse of that._

_And to all of you who read along and took the time to leave a review – thank you. Hearing from you always keeps me motivated to open a blank page and start typing on the next update. This story had a great deal of interruptions with my job and real life, but you didn't give up on me, and that meant so much. I'll be taking my customary break to clear my head, and then will be back in a few weeks with something new. I hope you'll join me on whatever crazy adventure I come up with for Stephanie next._


End file.
